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A.NGLO- AMERICAN 



LITERATURE AND MANNERS 



FROM THE FRENCH OF 



PHILAEETE CHASLES, 

PROFESSOR IN THE COLLEGE OF FRANCE 




NEW YORK 



CHARLES SCRIBNER, 145 NASSAU STREET. 



1852. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in tbe year 1852, by 

CHARLES SCEIBNER, 

In the Clerk's Oflk-e of tlie District Court of tlie United States for the Southern Dia 

trict of New York, 



C. W. BENEDICT, 
Stereotypeu and Printer, 
201 William Street. 



i.y 



TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. 



One or two words are judged necessary for the 
better understanding of this book, and the quitting of 
the translator's conscience. 

The author is fully rendered into English, with the 
exception of certain long extracts from well known or 
unknown English writers, analyses of such familiar 
v/orks as Melville's Typee, and a chapter from 
American history, the chapter of Arnold and Andre. 

The use of the words " Puritan" and *' Calvinist" 
will strike the reader ; who is to remember that M. 
Chasles is a Frenchman, and that to a Frenchman 
Calvinism means simjDly " Protestantism," of which 
the only form known in France is a modified 
Calvinism. 

It is trusted that readers will remember that the 
%oliole United States is spoken of, and that what may 
not be true of their own immediate society, may be 
very true of some other portion of this vast com- 
munity — indeed, what is there not in this huge 
country ? 



VI TRANSLATORS NOTE. 



It is hoped that few errors will be found in this 
translation ; and that the transcendant merit of the 
original will be appreciated, even in this j^resent 
English version. Such appreciation of the merit and 
of the profound thoughtfulness and discriminating 
delicacy of M. Chasles, wdll reward the translator for 
his trouble, which has not been small. 

THE TEANSLATOE, 

No. 4 Amity Place, New York, ) 
May 12, 1852. * 



AUTHOR'S PRELIMINARY NOTICE. 



This volume contains several " studies" on North America, 

and the development of literature and manners there. You 

will find here no pretension to direct the age, nor to preach 

new doctrines — a merit, by the way, sufficiently rare in these 

times. *^ 

The Americans of the United States, last-born of the 

/^reat Anglo-Saxon race, and founders of the federal republic 

of the United States, have conquered, in the civilized world, 

a place which does not permit the observer to pass them by 

in silence. 

For a scientific analysis of their institutions, I refer the 

reader to the excellent works of M. de Tocqueville and of 

M. Michael Chevalier. My object is different. I propose to 

exhibit, in a series of faithful pictures, the details of manners, 

traits of character, phenomena and singularity, observed upon 

the spot by foreign travellers, or shown forth by Americans 

themselves 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER T. 



Sec. I. — The Mayflower — Puritan Colonists — First effort of Anglo- 
American Literature, 1 

Seo TT — What is Innagination ? — The United States want Histor- 
ical Perspective, not Greatness, 4 

Sec. III. — Benjannin Franklin — Sir John Crevecceur — Letters of an 

American Planter— Jonathan Edwards, ... 8 

Sec. ]V. — Gouverneur Morris — The American Aristocrat — Paris 
observed from 1789 to 1792, by a Founder of the 
American Confederation, . • . . . .11 

Sec. v.— Morris at Paris from 1789 to 1792— Preludes to the Revo- 
lution — Jefferson's Opinion on the French Revolu- 
tion, 17 

Sec. VL— M. De Lafayette— The French Emigres, . . .29 

Sec. VIL — Brockden Brown — Washington Irving, . . . .36 

Sec. VIII. — The Novelist, Fennimore Cooper, . . . .42 

Sec. IX. — Paulding — The Brother Jonathan — Doctor Channing, . 53 

Sec. X. — Audubon, . • . . . . . 57 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER II. 

PACK 

Sec. T. — Infancy and Future of America — Age and Despair oi 
Europe— How Anierica is incessantly Peopled by the 
Superabundant Population of Europe — Emigration 
and Colonization, 94 

Sec. II. — Popular Movement in France and England — Education 

of the Masses, ........ 101 

Sec. III. — Poetry of Vengeance and of Popular Wrath in Europe, 109 



CHAPTER III. 

Sec. I. — Herman Melville and his Real Voyages, . . . .118 

Sec. II.— Are Mr. Melville's Voyages Apocryphal? . . .122 

Sec. III. — New Voyages of Melville — Of how, not having been 
Eaten, he throws himself into the Region of 
Chimera — Symbols, 127 

CHAPTER IV. 

Sec. I. — Anglo-American Travellers, .... . 147 

Sec, II. — English Travellers in America, . . . . 153 

Sec. III. — Judgment of English Travellers in America — Woman — 

Blue Laws — Puritan Austerity — Judiciary Anecdotes, 157 

Sec. IV. — Politeness of the Democracy — " Yes, Sir" — Conversa- 
tion between two Hats, 166 

Sec. V. — English Exaggeration — Dialect — New Cities, . . -169 

Sec. VI. — Superstitious Regard for Public Opinion — The American 

Press and its Excesses — Helps, . . . .176 

CHAPTER V. 

Sec. I. — Joel Barlow, Dwight, Colton — Washington, a Heroic Poem 
— Robert Payne and Charles Sprague — Dana, Drake 
and Pierrepont — Women-Poets— Street and Halleck, 181 



CONTENTS. XI 



PAGE 

Sec. II. — Bryant — Emerson — Longfellow, . . . • , . 186 



CHAPTER VI. 

Sec. II. — History of the Acadian Colony, . . . . .195 
Sec. II.— Mr. Longfellow's Poem . . . . .204 



CHAPTER VII, 

Sec. I. — Comic Romance — Tom Stapleton — Puffer Hopkins — Re- 
ply to Charles Dickens, . . . , . .210 

Sec. II. — Journals and Voyages — Workmen Poets — Archaeologists, 214 

CHAPTER VTTI. 
Sec. I. — Private Manners of North America, . . . .222 

Sec. II. — History of Ahab Meld rum, the Korkonite, . . 236 



CHAPTER IX. 

Sec. T. — Resume, 249 

Sec. II. — The Bee — Formation of an American Village, . . 250 

Sec. III. — Growth of the American Republic — First and Second 

Era of American Civilization in the United States, . 2C0 

Sec. IV. — Third Era of North America — Vestiges of Puritan Fana- 
ticism — Mormons and Millerites-^Catholics in the 
Valley of the Mississippi, 269 

Sec. V. — The Political System born of Tradition and Custom — Fe- 
derative Harmony — Dangers — Whigs and Democrats 
— Federals and Anti-Federals, 274 

Sec. VT. — Mechanism and Strategics of Parties, .... 282 

Sec. VI L— The Lowell Factory Girls— Boston— The Blacks- 
Pride of Race, 287 



XU CONTENTS. 



PAGK 

Sec. VIII. — Activity of the Country — Conquest of Soil — Rapidity 

of Comnaunication, 293 

Sec. IX. — Scenes of Violence and Murder — Aunt Beck and her 

Sons— The Astoria Colony— The Yankees, . .296 

Sec. X. — The Questioner — Scene in a Stage-Coach — The English- 
man, 301 

Sec. XI. — Women — Education of Children — Literary Progress, . 304 

Sec. XII. — Resumption — Actual Tendency of the States — Future 

of the Anglo-American Republics, . • . . 306 



ORIGIN AND PROGRESS 



OF 



LITEEATURE AND ELOQUENCE IN THE 
UNITED STATES. 



SECTION I. 

THE MAY-FLOWER PURITAN COLONISTS FIRST EFFORT OF 

ANGLO-AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

In 1630 there was seen in the harbor of Delft, in Holland, 
a little vessel of poor appearance and meanly equipped. It 
was called the May Flower. It was anchored in the harbor, 
waiting for its cargo and its passengers, the former very tri- 
fling, the latter a knot of poor enough fellows. 

The May-Flower sailed, carrying with her a dozen English 
Puritans, for the most part old, weary, mournful, in thread- 
bare black coats, and fortified with their Calvinist Bibles, a 
provision of biscuit, and more or less ham. When they had 
crossed the Atlantic, these worthy people, who were seeking 
a peaceable spot where they might worship God in their own 
fashion, set to work to found colonies, which became Philadel- 
phia, New York, and Boston. They had, as you know, to 



2 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

figlit against much hardship. When their dust was mincrUd 
with the soil of America, there issued from it a magnificent 
Empire. 

They had brought with them something more powerful than 
credit, riches, or armies, they possessed Moral Force ; they 
were depositories of that sacred spark from which empires 
are created ; they had sincerity, belief, perseverance, courage. 
There is nothing to show that they were very clever or even 
well instructed ; they certainly expected no great fortune, but 
their souls were strong. Suppose in their place, brave gentle- 
men of France or Spain, the most courtly lords of the Court 
of Charles I. or of Charles II. ; they would not have held up 
three years against the savages, the bears and the ennui of the 
solitude. American society would not have been founded. 
Our Puritans believed ; they knew how to wait, fight, sufi"er, 
and these are great qualities. 

Half a century later, Bayle sought an asylum in another 
city of that same Holland, refuge and workshop of revolu- 
tionary intellects during two hundred years. Bayle was cer- 
tainly one of the rarest minds that can be cited, and if we 
were in search of a man to oppose to our Puritans, we could 
not find a better one. 

He lodged near the statue of Erasmus, and when, at night, 
he illumed his lamp, its sceptic light fell upon the bronze robe 
of his sceptic precursor. He was, throughout the whole of 
his laborious life, more brilliant, more active, more influential, 
than Erasmus himself. 

Yet after all, in what did he succeed .? in furnishing Vol- 
taire and Diderot with excellent epigrams. The Puritans had 
done better ; they had deposed in the soil of America, the 
germ of a colossal empire. The power of faith and courage, 
even with genius, is in fecundity and grandeur, singularly 
greater than cleverness. Bayle, the charming thinker, ^' the 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 3 

Story-teller of the Universe," as M. Villemain paints him 
with one profound and ingenious touch, gave to the 18th 
century an immense arsenal of arguments, facts, doubts, and 
railleries — he has, in playing with it, sapped certainty and 
destroyed credulity and glory. That is all. I would not 
sacrifice to courageous souls all independence and spiritual 
grace ; but I say that the one builds, where the other de- 
stroys. I say that Moral Force is essential to the creation, 
maintenance and greatness of society. 

Now this Moral Force existed in its highest degree in the 
little Puritan colony carried by the May Flower. Its true 
originality was neither chivalric grace nor intellectual bril- 
liancy. The colonists had only that Calvinist energy, that 
vigorous courage, about to struggle with nature, that force 
which the author of Robinson Crusoe, the old Puritan, Daniel 
Defoe, has dressed in epic robes. Profound reverie, highly 
colored fiction, tragic starts, refined metaphysics, clever style, 
harmonious choice of language, none of all these could 
suit these colonists ; savage in their austerity, cruel by 
force of virtue, Art could not live in the hardness of their 
souls. 

It was not until late, after the first efforts at oolonization, 
when the red men had been forced to retire into their woods, 
when a considerable strip of land had been cleared upon the 
borders of the Atlantic, that a sort of literature was born in 
A^merica. 

Feeble, timid, imitative, with no pretension to sublimity or 
passion, a stranger to greatness, half rustic, half citizen, was 
it — in a word, it was inspired by the Spectator and Eobinsou 
Crusoe. 

The beginner of this literature, amiable and subtle scholar 
of Defoe and Addison, was Benjamin Franklin. He an- 
nounced the advent of a milder and more indulgent civiliza- 



4 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

tion. Addison's apologue and delicacy ; the popular, plain- 
speaking of Defoe and Bunyan, were softened and melted 
into a pleasant composition, which characterised the first essays 
of colonial literature, essays remarkable for the sobriety of 
their tone, and the absence of high color. 

Imagination, magnificent and dangerous gift, is not found 
in the works of Franklin, nor do any of his cotcmporaries or 
friends possess it. Nor Washington, nor JeiFerson, nor Gouv- 
erneur Morris, nor John Quincy Adams. Only to-day some 
sparks from its prism are thrown upon the pages of Prescott 
and Longfellow, of Washington Irving and Cooper. 

What is the cause of this intellectual phenomenon } In 
view of those green savannahs, those virgin forests, those 
lakes which are seas, those rivers whose banks are too far apart 
to be seen, the manly virtues of the Puritans have grown ; 
but their imagination has rested mute. Problem of curious 
resolution. 



SECTION II. 

WHAT IS IMAGINATION .? THE UNITED STATES WANT HIS- 
TORICAL PERSPECTIVE, NOT GREATNESS. 

W^hat is imagination ? It is remembrance idealized. 

Of all the striking images evoked by the mind of man 
there is but one which does not emanate from the memory. 
Unite the forms of the man and the horse, of the fish and the 
woman, of the goat and the youth, and you create the Cen- 
taur, the Syren, the Faun. Submit yourself to the laws of 
Nature, and if there be any harmony or proportion in your 
new combination, your chimera will bo the fruit of a happy 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 5 

imagination. If your remembrances, badly united, clumsily 
adjusted, do not succeed in composing a whole, you give birth 
to monsters. In either hypothesis, the common source from 
whence you draw is the Memory. Endowed with a more or 
less vivid or ardent power of remembrance, you will have 
what is vulgarly called fecundity or sterility of imagination ; 
but in your books, pictures, songs, poems, statues, what you 
fancy that you invent — though you were Dante, Phidias, or 
Raphael — will always be an impression of your childhood or 
youth, something which you have seen or felt ; treasure of 
remembrance whose poverty constitutes what is called stupid- 
ity, whose confusion results in extravagance, whose riches and 
plenitude constitute Genius. 

One abuses the elasticity of language, when one speaks of 
creative intelligences ; for there is no creation : to reproduce, 
to imitate, is enough for us. If Homer, Cervantes, Ariosto, 
Byron had lived, shut up in a dungeon, what would they 
ever have imagined } What creation would they have given 
to the world } Their empty brain, their inert thought would 
halve produced but mean or gross ideas, such as belong to 
hunger, thirst, the material wants of man. But they led lives 
of agitation ; a thousand varied impressions were profoundly 
engraved upon their minds which were endowed by Nature 
with a great aptitude to receive such impressions. Dante had 
seen Florence ; he created a Hell : Theologian, he created the 
Paradise : Lover, he produced Beatrice. Was it wanting in 
him, that quality falsely designated, but which must be called by 
its vulgar name. Imagination ; to him who has not introduced 
into his " Comedy" celestial, infernal or expiatory, one single 
word which was not a remembrance, one single idea which 
was not taken from Nature or History .? 

The critics, born in such days as ours, only talk of crea- 
tion, invention, imagination. It is precisely when all images 



b ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

have been reproduced, when all ideas have been a thousand 
times repeated, that they demand of art an impossible fecun- 
dity and originality. Hence the monsters produced by the 
old Literature when it fell into barbarity ; hence the unheard- 
of personages who people our romances. 

One goes beyond Nature, yet fancies that he imagines ; 
one is prodigal of falsehood, and thinks that he invents ; one 
builds upon vulgar realities all manner of grotesque novelties. 
The expression becomes as forced, as the idea is exaggerated 
and absurd. Yet after all, these disproportions, these mon- 
sters, these daubs, are but remembrance ill-employed, the 
dreams of a sick man, the incoherent phantoms of delirium ; 
a confused evocation of facts and ideas without harmony. 
The imagination of men of genius, produces the passions"*and 
scenes of the world, as a faithful and polished mirror repro- 
duces a beautiful country or a regular visage ; false imagina- 
tion is like those twisted mirrors, which the optician has made 
so as to produce no exact reflection ; where all appears im- 
measurably shortened or elongated. One is to the other 
what caricature is to portrait. 

And as it is impossible for a man without remembrance to 
have imagination, so that intellectual quality cannot belong to 
a people born yesterday, whose whole Past dates from yester- 
day. The United States of America, for so many reasons 
remarkable and grand, are essentially modern ; their genius 
is material and mechanic ; their force lies in their good sense, 
their patient observation and industry. It is — as we have just 
said — a country without imagination because without memo- 
ries. Countries grown old in sorrow, Ireland, Scotland, for 
instance, lend much to the imagination. They have bought 
that brilliant faculty dear ; not a castle whose walls are not 
blood-stained, whose legend does not tell of a murder ; not a 
fortress whose echoes do not bring to you from afar the sound 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 7 

of violence ; the atmosphere of the Gaelic hills is peopled 
with phantoms, every lake has its fay, every cavern its en- 
chanter : the shadow of Bruce wanders through those sombre 
chapels ; the name of Wallace sounds with the sough of the 
wind through these ruined arches. 

The United States, by a phenomenon which we have just 
explained, wants that dawn and penumbra which give perspec- 
tive. The very tongue is not native to the soil ; it has crossed 
the sea, and naturalized itself on that side the ocean. To pre- 
serve the purity of their style, American writers are forced to 
keep their regards constantly fixed upon the mother country 
where are found their types and their models. If thoy innovate, 
they fear vulgarity or emphasis. In this respect they are 
like those modern writers, who use a dead language, and fancy 
that they can thus restore to us Cicero, Demosthenes, Livy ; 
forgetting that it is the social life of a people which gives 
energy and life to a language, and that an idiom detached 
from national society and manners, is a branch detached from 
the tree, and deprived of its sap. Scotland, even, is proud 
of her dialect : she has her poet Burns, whose inspiration 
was at once extinguished when he became unfaithful to the 
patois of his province. 

The republicans of the United States, a virgin people, 
full of grandeur, whose struggle with nature is not yet ended ; 
all of whose energy must necessarily be directed to the foun- 
dation of cities and the development of industry ; a nation 
whose Future is their country ; who have no Past — hardly 
born and already a giant — which had no infancy, no child- 
hood, and whose maturity precedes its youth — not recog- 
nizing in their history any of those transitions from feeble- 
ness to virility ; any of those epochs, the chain of which, 
ornamented by tradition, receives later, the consecration of 
poetry. 



ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 



Here are soldiers, legishitors, artisans, a strong, noble race 
sufficient for to-day. Poets will be born, hereafter. 

The first of her writers is an artisan-legislator, it is 
Franklin. 



SECTION III. 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN SIR JOHN CREVECffiUR LETTERS OF AN 

AMERICAN PLANTER JONATHAN EDWARDS. 

I have already spoken of Franklin, type of the national 
genius ; consummate politician, subtle dialectician, a lover of 
the useful. His style has the qualities of his thought : good 
sense, lucidity, benevolence, delicate and sportive unction. He 
addresses himself neither to souvenirs, nor to hopes ; not one 
shadow of passion mingles with his language. It is rustic 
and pleasing, a prudence which smiles. Call him prosaic and 
vulgar, it will not offend liis shadow. His charming " Para- 
ble against Persecution," his " Poor Robin," a manual written 
for an infant people, whose leading-strings still guide its 
uncertain march ; his " Examination before the Privy Coun- 
cil" are chefs-d'oeuvre of political sagacity. One finds there, 
under ingenuous and ingenious forms, the suppleness of a most 
rare mind. 

A little while before the American Revolution broke out, a 
book — now little known — appeared, the tone and style of 
which are characteristic — " The Letters of an American 
Cultivator." Sir John Crevecoeur, author of this work, pub- 
lished under the pseudonym of Hector St. John, merits an 
honorable place in the list of modern writers. Landscape, 
manners, language, sentiment, all are essentially American 
The existence of the colonist is reproduced with energy and 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 9 

simplicity ; neither epithet nor coloring is exaggerated. \ ou 
find not only the objects, but also the sensations and ideas of 
a new country ; you see the author attaching his child's 
wagon to the plough which he guides, and so conducting along 
the furrows traced by the share, his little one and his plough, 
while his wife, seated under a tree at the other end of the 
field, knits the woollen vestments for the winter. In another 
place you have a duel between two serpents, the recital of 
which is grave and solemn as a battle of Homer ; the author's 
strong impressions are all revealed by the style ; he could not 
have chosen nobler words, had his heroes been Hector and 
Patroclus. He has vivid and graceful shading for whatever 
strikes him ; he does not paint Nature in his closet, nor make 
himself a descriptive poet, but as he sees her, so he repeats 
her. He does not busy himself about what the saloons of 
London or Paris may think of his work ; or whether the 
journals will cjiticise it. With what good will he mingles in 
the amusements of the Nantucket people ! What alacrity, 
what a power of industry and labor are in his pages ; how 
his heart beats in unison with every heart ; how he compels 
us to associate ourselves with the perils of the whale-fishery ; 
to take interest in the joyous feasts which reward those perils ! 
How admirable in all latitudes are those two things. Strength 
and Joy ! And is it not a rare and remarkable talent to 
paint them so as to make the reader share in them ? This 
writer, so little read, attains in some parts of his work to a 
degree of dramatic interest very uncommon. The American 
war is about to break out ; the low murmurs of the tempest 
rumble from afar ; the Indians are menacing to raise the war- 
whoop and to pour down upon the inland plantation. The 
colony hardly formed, may fall. These presagings sadden 
you ; and when you close the book, you have need to be reas- 
sured by History and to convince yourself that the terrors of 



10 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

the Colonist have not been realized, that the Colonial Hercu-^ 
les has strangled the serpents which attacked his cradle. 

The third remarkable writer whom we encounter in the 
literary annals of America, is a logician whose celebrity does 
not seem to have been widely propagated in Europe, but 
whose merits cannot be denied. Jonathan Edwards, an eccle- 
siastic, born in Massachusetts, has written a " Treatise on the 
Will," which ranks him with the subtlest writers. It is a 
man who does not wish to persuade you but to convince him- 
self. He has not a subterfuge, not an evasion, not a sophism. 
If an objection presents itself he does not strive, either to 
disguise or enfeeble it. Read him, and you will think Hobbes 
dogmatic and Priestly insolent. It is with perfect good faith 
"that he tries to clear up the inextricable difficulties into 
which his thought is plunged as soon as he approaches the 
theories of Free will. 

In these three writers you admire a fertile naivete, a happy 
facility, a ripened, sagacious reason — but no imagination. 
The American Cultivator only, by the freshness of his pic- 
tures, exhibits a sort of originality. 

Franklin is like Fenelon, Bunyan, Addison. In Jonathan 
Edwards there is something of the firm, neat, pressing argu- 
ment of Descartes ; impassioned eloquence and poetic imagi- 
nation are wanting to the whole three. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 11 



SECTION IV. 

GOUVERNEUR MORRIS THE AMERICAN ARISTOCRAT PARIS OB- 
SERVED FROM 1789 TO 1*792 BT A FOUNDER OF THE AMERI- 
CAN CONFEDERATION. 

Imagination is not found either in Gouverneur Morris, a 
diplomatist, a distinguished observer, an intelligent and an 
honest man, endowed with a quick enough sagacity, a right 
judgment, and a coolness which serves" him in a crisis, and 
which permits him to pass peaceably through the French 
Eevolution. 

Morris never exposed himself rashly ; never went to meet 
danger ; but when there was necessity, urgency, duty, he 
halted, showed a calm face and braved the peril ; it is one of 
the finest qualities of the American character. His speeches 
in Congress and his notes contributed powerfully to the good 
organization of the confederate democracy, and above all of 
American finance. Friend of Washington, he became inti- 
mate with every one of those strangers who offered their 
services to the new Republic during its struggle — the Mar- 
quis de Lafayette — " The others," (says Washington, in a 
letter to Morris,) " are adventurers whom the waste of their 
own resources sends to us, or spies paid by foreign govern- 
ments to watch our movements, or men whose souls are given 
up to a vain desire of glory, which would make them sacrifice 
the holiest interests to their personal ambition." 

When that great and fine Revolution of America, so little 
stained with innocent blood, so noble and so grave, was ter- 
minated, and Washington, instead of seeking the first rank in 
the new federal empire, sought by every honest means to 



]2 ORIGIN AND rKOGKESS OF 

escape from his own glory, and the ordinary recompenses of 
ambition, Gouverneur Morris, whose fortune was considera- 
ble, whose social position excellent, desired to visit Europe. 
Washington gave him several letters to his friends, and 
charged him — a characteristic detail — " to buy him at Paris, 
a flat gold watch, without any ornament; not," says the 
letter, " the watch of a fool or of a man who desires to make 
a show, but of which the interior construction shall be ex- 
tremely well cared for, and the exterior air very simple." 

Morris started for France, from whence he wrote to his 
friends, between 17S9 and 1792 a great many letters, which 
Jared Sparks, one of the most indefatigable biographers of 
the United States, published in 1802 with the life of his com- 
patriot Morris. Biography, treated as Jared Sparks treats 
it, is by no means amusing ; it is a Chinese screen, without 
perspective, where all is on the same flat, all the incidents 
have the same importance. Yet I like this style without 
style, this good faith of an honest business man better than 
the charms of the rhetoric biographer. 

The political acts of Morris, citizen of" the United States, 
were honorable without being brilliant. The qualities of his 
mind were essentially American ; a penetrating good sense, 
and a great taste for order and economy ; a gentle and benev- 
olent severity in his way of judging men ; and in matters of 
fortune a consummate prudence and exemplary patience. 
The spirit of a-propos and clever sally was not wanting to his 
character any more than to Franklin : not the only likeness 
between them, for they had the same cool temperament, the 
same Socratic look into things. Morris having never been 
obb'ged to fight against fortune, nourished more epicurean 
tastes, and resigned himself more easily to the brilliant and 
conversational idleness of great cities. He had also some 
good old habitual sins, gastronomy, for instance, and the love 



LITERATUUE AND ELOQUENCE. 13 

of doing nothing, which put him upon a level with the France 
of Louis XV., and associated him with its movement. 

Morris is an admirable observer ; never has the French 
Revolution been judged by so impartial a witness, by a man 
come from the other world to assist at this great drama, by an 
American, a member of the Congress where Washington and 
Franklin sate. Democrat by fact and not by theory he 
knows how liberty is established. He does not recall the 
memory of Athens and Rome, his own remembrances suffice 
him. He handled the interests of a nation which created 
itself a republic in spite of its metropolis, and which has also 
had its noble contests, its terrible crises, its moments of exal- 
tation, its violent revolutions, its martyrs, its heroes, its 
obstacles to overcome. 

How will Gouverneur Morris appreciate the new liberty of 
France ? The movers of this grand change will pass before 
his eyes and will exhibit to him all their resources. It is 
curious to examine their portraits, made by a man who had no 
interest in deceiving. How will he regard those ardent 
theories, those philosophic vapors, by whose constant eruptions 
society is melted to be recast. Docs he consider this vehe- 
mence as a pledge of duration ; this powerful ebulition as a 
proof of strength ? He has seen our Mirabeaus, our Camille 
Desmoulins ; he has watched them as they worked ; he has 
consigned his reflections to a journal, which is now published. 
How has he prophesied ? You will not accuse him of judging 
after the blow was struck ; nor of yielding to the predilections 
of an aristocratic birth. If he shows severity, it will be the 
severity of a friend. What leaning can this son of American 
colonists have towards the nobles of France ? And this enemy 
of England, who has just revolted against the tyranny of the 
metropolis, can he be a partisan of Pitt, of Coburg .'' 

Let us follow him. Let us listen to him. 



14 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

It was in 1789 ; minds were in motion in France, heads 
were fermenting. Morris disembarking at Havre, formed the 
acquaintance of a little gentleman who appeared to him a 
phenomenon ; it was the first specimen of this sort which had 
offered itself to his notice ; a universal reformer ; a man of 
plans and systems ; a little gentleman, whose brain was boiling 
with politics, philanthrophy and philosophy ; a genius who 
could regulate the destinies of twenty empires better than 
Lycurgus or Alfred the Great. Something worth observing 
is this : the immense surprise of the good Morris in presence 
of this legislative gentleman, Morris, who had himself just 
been a legislator and the founder of a state. He makes a 
note of this curious and uneasy individual, and goes on his 
way. 

He arrives in Paris Feb. 3, 1789. Paris flashing with lux- 
ury, sparkling with cleverness, saturated with pleasure, where 
the awful scene of the " States General" is about to open. 

The first persons whom he visits are Jefferson, Minister 
Plenipotentiary of the United States, in France, and M. 
de Lafayette, for whose character he professes a high esteem, 
without sharing in his feelings, or his manner of judging. The 
physiognomy of reforming France astonishes him. The im- 
pression produced upon him by the universal enthusiasm, by 
the manner of the court, by the blundering fervor of the ad- 
vocates, the lawyers, the men of letters, is far from favor- 
able. He finds no where that religious profundity of sensa- 
tion and decision which is a pledge of a people's future. In- 
stead of admitting the zeal for a purely theoretic liberty ; 
instead of getting inflamed by the noisy logomachy of orators 
, and writers ; instead of associating himself with that popular 
superstition, which, in six years, was to become an ardent 
fanaticism, our American, who goes to the bottom of things, 
and earnestly seeks in the wild chaos, thq germs of veritable 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 15 

independence, of real liberty, recognizes with sorrow, that no 
such germs are to be found there. From the first day he 
predicts the inevitable and bloody fall of the French Repub- 
lic about to be established. 

His political opinions never agree with those of his friend 
M. de Lafayette. The first time that this celebrated name 
appears in his journal, he says — " Lafayette is too full of 
politics ; he appears to be too republican for the genius of his 
country." 

It is in vain that you say to Morris, " We want the liberty 
which you have acquired." He replies obstinately, " This is 
not our American liberty." M. de Lafayette shows him a 
copy of the celebrated " Declaration of the Rights of Man," 
which he intends to read in the National Assembly. Morris, 
always a man of sense, says that words are not things, and 
that dogmatic assertions are of very little importance to the 
happiness of the masses. " I gave him my opinions, and 
suggested several amendments tending to soften the high- 
colored expression of freedom. It is not by sounding words 
that revolutions are produced." 

Alas ! Morris touched the wound with his finger. There 
were certainly too many sounding words in all that — the man 
of letters and the rhetorician had too much to do with our 
first revolution. Men had too much faith in words, and sac- 
rificed things to them with too much inconsiderateness. The 
people thought they could make liberty as Rousseau had made 
virtue — by declamation. This frightened a foreigner who had 
seen a true liberty develop itself by mere moral force. He 
could not forget that he had taken a very active part, played 
a very essential role in a revolution crowned with success, 
with fortune, with power. 

How could Morris help fearing that abortion would result 
from all this Spartan, Roman bombast ? Founder of a demo- 



16 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

cracy, be had seen no Greek memories in the cradle of the insti- 
tutions which he had helped to form. What seems to him in- 
compatible with the establishment of liberty is the violent fury 
for renovation, the blind and childish confidence of those who 
hope to found durable institutions on enthusiasm and phrases. 
You must turn to the memoirs of Morris, to see how a 
friend of Washington appreciates those paper politicians, who 
issue from the Registry and the Sorbonne to regulate king- 
doms. The disdain of this republican for republican talkers 
reaches sometimes even injustice. He has not indulgence 
enough for an old civilized country, overladen with colleges 
and academies, impregnated with Greek and Latin ideas ; for 
a capital which has known the Regency and Louis XV. ; for 
men who have read Rousseau after leaving the jietit soujper^ 
and who though kneaded in monarchy are yet drunk with 
patriotic desires, and who run with the passions of a child 
towards the ideal goal from which their habits and their 
wishes separate them. Morris keeps too constantly under his 
eyes America, the new country, where manners are simple, 
interests not complicated ; ideas, serious and strong — a nation 
which does not care to imitate Epaminondas, or to have a 
Demosthenes, so long as they can make the port of Boston 
free; so long as the Stamp Act does not diminish their 
profits. How could Morris do otherwise than pity the meta- 
physical discussions, and endless speculations of the French. 
Politics are no matters of sentiment and passion, and Morris 
was both frightened and alarmed at what he saw. " They 
, reform here," he says, "with unparalleled giddiness. Every 
; body has something to do with it. Each man has a plan, 
. each man a theory. The physicians of the social body are 
J multiplied. There is not an attorney, no matter how little, 
j how iLmorant of rhetoric, who does not become a reformer. 
, Where is the moral and intellectual force which alone can 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 17 

rescue France ? A little energy, and better morals would do 
her far more good than all these words." 

During the various crises of the French Revolution from 
1789 to 1794, Morris, who had been taught bloody lessons, 
grew firmer in his opinions, and did not cease to cry out to 
every party that they were losing themselves and ruining the 
liberty of their country. At last, his disapprobation became 
so thorough and so distinct, that the French republicans, 
annoyed by the presence of such a censor, solicited his re- 
call in 1794, for Morris had replaced Jefferson as Charge 
d'Affaires for the United States. Nothing appeared easier 
than for a minister of the American Republic to go hand in 
hand with the chiefs of the French Republic. But these 
latter had gone so far in so short a time that Washington, 
Franklin, Morris, had been left behind. After being two or 
three times put upon the list of the " suspected," our repub- 
lican went home, where he lived peaceably at his estate of 
Morrisiana, and died not a very great while ago. 



SECTION V. 

MORRIS AT PARIS FROM 1789 TO 1792 PRELUDES TO THE 

REVOLUTION — Jefferson's opinion on the French revo- 
lution. 

I think that no other observer was so happily placed as 
Morris, to get a view of our Revolution. Minister Plenipo- 
tentiary of a friendly republic, rich and independent, his rela- 
tions with those in power were habitual, easy and confidential. 
As American and Member of Congress, he had a right to the 
favor of the more exalted revolutionists. Well brought up 



18 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

and educated, and a friend of de Lafayette, he was admitted 
to the drawing rooms of the nobility, and the cabinets of the 
dying monarchy. "While he sympathized in the movement 
of the people towards liberty, he never hid his pity for au 
aristocracy which had flourished so long and which was so 
suddenly uprooted. Therefore all doors were opened to him, 
those of the boiling revolutionary clubs, those of the hotels 
where the trembling relics of the monarchical party united. 
There are a thousand curious little traits, a thousand light- 
giving anecdotes, jotted down upon the tablets of the travel- 
ler. 

You see there how marquises and counts amused themselves 
on the eve of a fearful catastrophe ; how lords, old and young, 
whose heads would soon be in danger, attached, in the chapel 
and during the mass, a lighted candle to the cassock of a 
fashionable abbe ; what politico-romantic discussions were 
heard at the restaurateurs' of Versailles ; how the expiring 
monarchy looked everywhere for advice, counsel, direction, 
accepting all and following the worst. Side by side with 
these details, the observant American places his prophetic 
reflections ; the date is there and the date is remarkable ; 
Morris predicts the events of more than one year. 

The Republic is about to be established, and he announces 
it ; the Republic will be changed into a Dictature and a 
Tyranny ; he says so in 1791, If he appreciate a person, if 
he predict a result, time proves, that the man was well- 
judged, the result inevitable. 

Let us look how he describes the materials of the coming 
revolution. 

" The materials for a revolution in this country are very in- 
difiierent. Everybody agrees that there is an utter prostra- 
tion of morals ; but this general position can never convey to 
an American mind the degree of depravity. It is not by any 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 19 

figure of rhetoric, or force of language, that the idea can be 
communicated.' A hundred anecdotes, and a hundred thou- 
sand examples, are required to show the extreme rottenness of 
every member. There are men and women who are greatly 
and eminently virtuous. I have the pleasure to number many 
in my own acquaintance ; but they stand forward from a 
background deeply and darkly shaded. It is, however, from 
such crumbling matter, that the great edifice of freedom is to 
be erected here. Perhaps, like the stratum of rock, which 
is spread under the whole surface of their country, it may 
harden when exposed to the air ; but it seems quite as likely 
that it will fall and crush the builders." 

We are tempted, by our love for France, to accuse the 
American of injustice ; nevertheless when we examine, with- 
out prejudice, the epoch of which he speaks, when we look at the 
Memoir es de Bachaumont^ the Correspondence de Grimm ^ the 
Works of Laclos^ the letters of Madame d'^Ejpinay^ that senti- 
mental roueej the letters of Mademoiselle de Lespina^sey who 
loved with so naively-philosophic a passion, three men at 
once, and the facetiae of M. de Caylus, and the prettinesses 
of our friend Crebillon the younger ; — we must agree with 
Morris that there is not much republic in all that ; — that the 
affair of the Queen's collar, the lawsuit of Beaumarchais, the 
scandal about Madame d'Eon, the antecedents of Mirabeau, 
the favor of the abbe-cardinal de Bernis, form a strange por- 
tal through which to enter into an austere democracy. We 
must excuse Morris, nurtured, as he was, in respect for the 
law, for marriage, for an oath, for the sanctity of the family ; 
who has seen flourish, in the midst of this respect and this 
morality, not the shadow, the bloody phantasmagoria of a 
republic, but a true Republic, industrious and calm. 

Sometime after having written the above litter to Washing- 
I ton, he writes to Mr. Jay : 



20 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

" When I reflect how very little this nation is prepared by 
habits or education, to enjoy complete liberty, I fairly tremble 
for it ; it will overshoot the mark, or rather, I fear, has 
already done so. They have felt too long the heavy weight 
of royal authority. Now they look with pleasure upon what- 
ever can restrain or break it ; they seek a republic, but how 
will they sustain it ? France does not yet know all the evils 
to which the exaggerated feebleness of the executive power 
necessarily exposes itself. She only fears the tyranny of 
power, which can no longer touch her ; she does not arm 
herself against anarchy, the most fearful danger which now 
threatens her." 

This was written in 1789. 

"VYe have already remarked in Morris, a mixture of severe 
morality, and of skilful social finesse. He has just enough 
of American puritanism not to excuse the slightest vice ; and 
enough experience of the world not to be the dupe of a single 
false appearance. Add to this that he does not draw brilliant 
portraits to win your admiration, or his own ; that his opinions 
are neither exaggerated nor wanting, but singularly redoubt- 
able. He shows no favor to pretension. Does a vanity hide 
itself under a virtue ; does a feebleness put on the robe of 
glory, the American is inexorable. Penetrating without ma- 
lignity, sagacious without ambition, thrown into a stormy 
society which marches blindly towards its ruin, had he identi- 
fied himself with it, like Anacharsis Clootz and Thomas 
Paine, he could not have judged it ; had he only hated and 
despised it, like Burke, he would have been unjust. But he 
marched with it, yet kept apart from its follies, its furies, its 
intoxication. ' He kept his eyes open, his glance clear, his 
soul accessible to what was noble in the efforts of France. 

French society, so well represented in its greatness and 
littleness by Voltaire ; and which like him is a lover of hu- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 21 

innnity, like him p-ime-sautiere ;'^ drawn on by instinct, and 
seduced by a hon mot ; destructive, roue^ light-headed, capri- 
cious, violent ; desiring the good, doing the evil ; talking 
virtue, pedantic without knowing it ; a drunken marquis, who 
with trembling steps, in cloth of gold with ragged sleeves 
runs, singing, headlong towards the abyss ; — all this astonishes 
and revolts Morris, who has never imagined anything like it. 
Morris has just left Washington. The most honest people of 
Paris seem to him somewhat crazy. As for the craziest, they 
are wild beasts for him. 

In the midst of these morals and these men, he is yet quite 
at ease, tells the truth to all the world, and plays his part of 
" peasant from the Danube." Instead of getting angry at 
his frankness, they are charmed by its novelty ; duchesses 
smile on him, countesses applaud him, ministers listen to 
him. 

" I have dared," he says, " to utter hard words, which they 
are little accustomed to. I told some grave truths, and they 
heard them joyfully; satiated as they were with prettiness 
and flattery. Truth is a new and singular dish, which pleases 
them. It is an unexpected contrast and they like it. I 
will not, however, give them too much of it." 

For his part he docs not exchange flatteries with his hosts. 
Far from esteeming French politeness too highly, he sees, 
with clear glance, how much of false and of hollow there is in 
that brilliant and pleasant lie. 

" It is agreeable," he says, "but you must be a fool to 
believe it." Still, he let himself be charmed by a conversa- 
tion which is easy, always ready, which characterized the time, 
and which now begins to be merely a tradition. As soon as 
the first symptoms of agitation manifest themselves, he sees 
clearly the future of France. " The court," he says, " is 
* Said of a person who expresses himself with great readiness. 



22 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

extremely feeble ; morals are very much relaxed, and the 
first effort of the nation will overthrow the throne." 
He attends the opening of the States General ; and not- 
withstanding the solemnity of the scene, he discovers a much 
greater interest than the frivolous one excited by a mere out- 
side ceremony. He expects a total change in French life. 
When he sees the Queen, already humiliated, abase her Aus- 
trian pride, devour her tears in silence, and all trembling, 
salute the people who disdain her ; when he hears nobles de- 
claiming against feudal tyranny, and observes the enormous 
power usurped by the faculty of eloquence and the strength 
of language he foresees Robespierre, Thermidor, Bonaparte. 

" I have seen," he says, " the curtain fall upon the first 
act of a terrible drama. The first step of grandeur descend- 
ing towards the tomb, has been taken before my eyes ; it is 
very sad and more deserving of pity and reflection that the 
last catastrophe will be." Whosoever will recal the time in 
which these words were written, will find them prophetic and 
beautiful. 

His conversation with Jefi'erson, whose republican opinions 
were much more ardent and decided than those of Morris, 
prove that Jefi'erson, then Minister for the United States, 
judged France precisely as his compatriot did. 

*' June 3d — Go to Mr. Jefi"erson's. Some political con- 
versation. He seems to be out of hope of any thing being 
done to purpose by the States General. This comes from 
having sanguine expectation of a downright republican form 
of government. The literary people here, observing the 
abuses of their monarchical form, imagine that everything must 
go the better in proportion as it recedes from the present 
establishments, and in their closets they make men exactly 
suited to their systems ; but unluckily they are such men 
as exist nowhere else ; and least of all in France. I am 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 23 

more than ever persuaded that the form, which at first ap- 
peared to be most fit for them, is that which will be adopted ; 
and sxactlj to my idea, but probably in a much better 
manner." 

Morris not content with writing all this in his note-book 
uttered it in the drawing-rooms. Judge if French society 
were surprised ; the liberty with which the American spake 
such opinions, seemed strange in those days when all was 
hope, fire, ardor, attraction towards the social felicity which 
men dreamed of. Honorable and dishonorable, feeble and 
intelligent, Mirabeau and Marat, were all travelling in idea 
towards a political Eldorado. Morris desired to put off or to 
check this flight ; he was in consequence reproached as faith- 
less to his own cause, and as a traitor to that independence 
which as an American he was bound to propagate. 

" At dinner I sit next to Monsieur de Lafayette, who tells 
me that I injure the cause, for that my sentiments are con- 
tinually quoted against the good party. I seize this oppor- 
tunity to tell him, that I am opposed to the democracy from 
regard to liberty. That I see they are going headlong to 
destruction, and would fain stop them if I could. That their 
views respecting this nation are totally inconsistent with the 
materials of which it is composed ; and that the worst thing, 
which could happen, would be to grant their wishes. Ho 
tells me, that he is sensible that his party are mad, and tells 
them so, but is not the less determined to die with them. I 
tell him, that I think it would be quite as well to bring them 
to their senses and live with them." 

Of the same sort is his judgment of men and character ; 
austere as Truth, calm and simple as she is, armed with an 
unepigramatic irony, less bitter than satire, yet of a farther- 
reaching blow. 

Let our readers judge whether his opinion of M. Necker, 



24 ORIGIN AND TROGRESS OF 

for instance, is like that wliich history has at last adopted. 
We will extract from the diary of Morris, a simple recital of 
unpretentious memoranda, sometimes ungrammatical, the rela- 
tion of his first interview with the Minister of Finance, a man 
BO variously appreciated. 

*' I dined with M. and Madame Necker. Our society was 
composed of academicians and great lords. If M. Necker 
be really a great man, I deceive myself ; so do I if he be not a 
great worker * # * * 1"}ie courtiers in their anguish 
curse Necker and his acts ; but he is less the cause than the 
instrument of their sufferings. The nation loves in him the 
man detested by the court. If the nobles did not try to 
destroy him, the republicans would not sustain him ; his 
position is factitious ; he is not listened to. Dictator a fort- 
nio-ht ao-o, he has now lost his influence. Then, he decided all ; 
DOW, nothing. They keep him because they fear to do other- 
wise ; lest his removal should prove a pretext for a popular 
commotion. The giant will soon fall. 

'' Necker's reputation seems to be false and inflated, a 
very common thing in this country. His enemies pretend 
that his character as a banker is not stainless, but Parisian 
judgments are too much exaggerated to be readily subscribed 
to. Necker is a man of probity ; in his administration of the 
public money, he has always shown himself honest and dis- 
interested. Apparently, he is more vain than vicious ; he 
ruins himself to retain a high post, sought by others as a 
means of self-enrichment. The source of his great renown 
in France would be thought singular in America; it is the 
emphasis of his writings, the philosophic and false sensibility 
which makes the fortune of modern romances, and which he 
puts into his books upon finance ; that pleases the French. 
Here one likes to read, if you do not make him reflect. Ho 
has talent as a writer, and his wife has finesse j but neither 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 25 

one nor the other know what a minister is. His financial 
education has taught him economy ; and all he knows of 
mankind is their monied interests. All our other passions 
escape him." 

Whether this portrait be exact or not, the predictions of 
Morris have been accomplished to the letter ; the giant 
fell a few days after his elevation ; his popularity collapsed, 
as Morris announced, and his reputation for probity re- 
mained stainless. The brilliant conver^^ation of his daughter, 
Madame de Staol, frightened Morris, who by no means spares 
her in his journal, though he renders justice to her fine 
qualities, mental and spiritual ; you see that she made him 
nervous, that he could hardly accustom himself to a nature 
which had nothing feminine but its sprightliness and mobility, 
but borrowed from the other sex audacity, strength, im- 
petuosity, eloquence : Morris was too severe towards this 
extraordinary woman. 

" After dinner (Madame de Tesse having told her that I 
am un homme dhsp'it ) she singles me out, and makes a talk. 
Asks if I have not written a book on the American constitu- 
tion. " Non Madame, j'ai fait mon devoir en assistant a la 
formation de cette constitution." " Mais Monsieur, votre 
conversation doit etre tres interessante, car je vous entends 
cite de toute part." " Ah, Madame, je ne suis pas digne de 
cet eloge." How I lost my leg r It was unfortunately not 
in the military service of my country. " Monsieur, vous 
avez Pair tres imposant," and this is accompanied with that 
look, which without being what Sir John Falstafi" calls the 
" leer of invitation," amounts to the same thing. I answered 
afl&rmatively, and would have left the matter there ; but she 
tells me that Monsieur de Chastellux often spoke of me. 
This leads us on, but in the midst of the chat arrive letters. 
one of which is from her lover (Narbonne) now with his regi- 



26 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

ment. It brings her to a little recollection, wliicli I think, a 
little time will again banish. She enters into a conversation 
with Madame de Tesse, who reproves most pointedly the 
approbation she gave to Mirabeau, and the ladies became at 
length animated to the utmost bound of politeness." 

The light ridicule, the frivolity applied to the gravest in- 
terests, the mingling of silliness with striking and easy grace, 
did not escape Morris. • 

" March 1st. — Sup with Madame de la Suse. A small 
party absorbed in Quinze. Monsieur de B. for want of some- 
thing else to do, asks me many questions about ximerica, in a 
manner which shows he cares little for the information. By 
way of giving him some adequate idea of our people, when he 
mentioned the necessity of fleets and armies to secure us 
against invasions, I tell him, that nothing would be more diffi- 
cult than to subdue a nation, every individual of which, in 
t' e pride of freedom, thinks himself equal to a king ; and if, 
sir, you should look down on him, would say, " I am a man ; 
are you anything more .?" " All this is very well ; but there 
must be a difference of ranks, and I should say to one of 
these people — ' You, sir, who are equal to a king, make me a 
pair of shoes.' " *' Our citizens, sir, have a manner of think- 
ing peculiar to themselves. This shoemaker would reply : 
' Sir, 1 am very glad of the opportunity to make you a pair 
of shoes. It is my duty to make shoes, and I love to do my 
duty, — Does your king do his V This manner of thinking 
and speaking, however, is too masculine for the climate I am 
now in." 

I must quote one more scene, which says enough of the re- 
ligious spirit of the great, and of their occupations on the 
eve of a catastrophy. 

" June 11th. — This morning I go to Reinsi. Arrive at 
eleven. Nobody yet visible. After some time the Duchess 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 27 

(of Orleans) appears, and tells me that slie has given 
Madame de Chastellux notice of my arrival. This consists 
with my primitive idea. Near twelve before the breakfast is 
paraded ; but, as I had eaten mine before my departure, this 
has no present inconvenience. After breakfast we go to mass 
in the chapel. In the tribune above, we have a Bishop, an 
Abbe, the Duchess, her maids, and some of their friends. 
Madame de Chastellux is below on her knees. We are amused 
above by a number of little tricks played off by Monsieur de 
Segur and Monsieur de Cabieres with a candle, which is put 
into the pockets of different gentlemen, the Bishop's among 
the rest, and lighted, while they are otherwise engaged (for 
there is a fire in the tribune), to the great merriment of the 
spectators. Immoderate laughter is the consequence. The 
Dutchess preserves, as much gravity as she can. This scene 
must be very edifying to the domestics, who are opposite to 
us, and the villagers who worship below. After this ceremony 
is concluded, we commence our walk, which is long and ex- 
cessively hot. Then we get into batteaux, and the gentle- 
men row the ladies, which is by no means a cool operation. 
After that, more walking ; so that I am excessively inflamed, 
even to fever heat. Get to the Chateau, and doze a little, 
en attendant le diner ^ which does not come till after five. A 
number of persons surround the windows, and doubtless form 
a high idea of the company, to whom they are obliged to 
look up at an awful distance. Ah, did they but know how 
trivial the conversation, how very trivial the characters, their 
respect would soon be changed to an emotion extremely dif- 
ferent." 

Three years after, the people had discovered the hollow- 
ness of the walls ; and Morris, who had pitied their imbecile 
veneration, saw it changed into a frightful hatred. 

The Bastille is taken : Versailles rests calm and mute. " It 



28 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

is considered in good taste at court,'' says Morris, " to seem 
to believe that all is tranquil. To-morrow, perhaps, when 
they see the walls of the smoking citadel, they may go so 
far as to allow that there has been some disturbance in Paris." 
Full of contempt for this apathy of the courtiers, who con- 
tinue their mystifications and their jpctits sowpers^ Morris does 
not neglect to interest himself in the families blazoned with 
antique glory. He mocks the faLen art, and the artists of 
the day, who take so little interest in the commotion, and 
who, in face of the French Revolution, busy themselves 
about academies, smiling nymphs, and chubby cupids. A 
painter, a pensioner of the king, showed to Morris a hand- 
some ^neas and Anchises, which covered a large canvas. 
" You would do better," said the American, " to paint the 
taking of the Bastille. It is less heroic, but rather more in- 
teresting for us. 

The feebleness of Louis XVI., his entire want of decision 
and of intellectual courage in great circumstances, inspired in 
Morris a sort of disdain ; he is not for a moment deceived as 
to the fate of the king, whose probity he esteems and whose 
gituation he pities, surrounded as he is by perfidious friends 
and inexorable enemies. He receives a deposit of money 
from the hands of the Monarch, and in several very remark- 
able notes, gives him excellent advice which is never followed. 
A plan of a Constitution for France, drawn up by Morris is 
peculiar by the fact, that with the exception of some modifi- 
cations, especially an hereditary peerage which seemed neces- 
sary to Morris, the plan indicated by the American in 1790, 
as the only salvation for France, is precisely that under which 
she tried to exist from 1830 to 1848, a mixed government, 
slightly aristocratic, very favorable to industry, giving but 
little latitude to the personal wishes of the Sovereign, en- 
suring extended supervision to the deliberative chambers, and 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. . 29 

leaving to talent ready access to power. An ultra-federalist 
in his own country, Morris would appear to most of us, to-day, 
to sustain ultra-monarchical principles ; how then could he be 
otherwise than complained of when the Revolution boiled 
over ; when one dreamed of no other social condition but 
Spartan equality ! 

He cannot get along with Lafayette ; their friendship soon 
cools ; and on Morris' side does not rekindle, until Lafayette, 
placed in a false position between the sovereign people and the 
©y.efthrown king, unable to arrest one or to save the other, 
and crushed by the collision, falls, is cursed alike by the power 
he had weakened, and the democracy which he had served but 
not followed 



SECTION VL 

M. DE LAFAYETTE THE FRENCH ^MIGR^S. 

This American Morris, accused of coldness for Utopias 
and indifference for enthusiastic systems, performs noiselessly 
several noble and very generous actions ; devoted yet prudent 
hero, he saves the life of Madame de Lafayette, and becomes 
suspicious to the republicans, who send him away in 1793. 
His journal had ceased to be detailed ; Morris, always cir- 
cumspect, felt that it would be absurd to risk his head for the 
pleasure of making certain notes, and under date of January, 
1790,* you may read these words, the last written in his French 
journal : 

" The situation of affairs is such, that I cannot continue 
my journal without compromising myself and many others 



39 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

If I do not write useless and insignificant memoranda, I can 
write nothing. I prefer therefore to stop altogether." 

Driven from France by the republicans, he travelled in 
England, Prussia, and Austria. There was then in Europe 
an interesting and scattered nation, a nation unfortunate, 
noble, brilliant, eccentric — the emigres. We have no where 
a complete picture of their fortune, their absurdities, their 
strength of soul. Morris, who recommences his journal as 
soon as he is out of France, throws some light upon that 
curious subject. Without insulting any misfortune, without 
adding any derogatory or painful reflection to the observations 
of Morris, we will content ourselves with copying certain 
lines relative to the life of the emigres abroad. 

" July 11th. — I call on the Count Woranzow, and show 
him the draft of a manifesto by the new King of France, 
which I gave to Lord Grrenville last "Wednesday, and which 
he has returned with his wish, that it may arrive in season. 
The Count Woranzow is well pleased with it, and thinks the 
Due d' Harcourt should give money to the person who will 
carry it to the king. I tell him that is a matter to be settled 
among them. He gives me an account of the strange levity 
and wild negociations of the Count d' Artois, and the pitiful 
folly of M. Serrcne to whom he gives his confidence. He 
fears that when arrived at Vendee, he will surround himself 
by such ;petit maitres^ and disgust the chiefs, who have 
acquired the confidence of the people in that quarter, viz. 
Puisaye, Labourdonnaye, Charette, Stoflet, and wishes me to 
caution some of his entours. I tell him that would have no 
other effect than to lead the person to whom I might give 
such caution, into a communication of it to all those who are 
about the Prince, and by that means to produce the mischief 
we mean to avoid." 
• " Dresden^ August 19th. — In the streets are many French 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 31 

emigrants, who are travelling eastward to avoid their country- 
men. They are allowed to stay only tKree days. Unhappy 
people ! Yet they employ themselves in seeing everything 
curious which they can get at, are serene, and even gay. So 
great a calamity could never light on shoulders which could 
hear it so well. But alas ! the weight is not diminished hy 
the graceful manner of supporting it. The sense, however, 
is less, by all that spleen and ill-humor could add to torment 
the afflicted. Doubtless, there are many among them, who 
have a consciousness of rectitude to support them." 

Three months afterwards, he returns to the chapter of the 
emigres, again praises the elegance of their manners, and 
their courage under affliction, but he does not forget the 
reverse of the medal. 

" Return home and write for the post. After dinner I visit 
Madame Audenarde who asks me if it be true that I am 
charged here with a mission from Congress to ask the liberty 
of Lafayette. I laugh at this a little, and then assuring her 
that there is no truth in that suggestion, say that it is a piece 
of folly to keep him prisoner. This brings her out violently 
against him, and to the same effect the Count Dietrichstein, 
who indeed is as much prompted to defend the Austrian 
administration, as to side with his friend. We examine the 
matter as coolly as their prejudices will admit ; and, on the 
point of right, he takes the only tenable ground, viz., that 
the public safety being the supreme law of princes, the 
Emperor, conceiving it dangerous to leave Lafayette and his 
associates at large, had arrested them, and keeps them s.till 
prisoners for the same reason. Lavaupalliere, who comes iri 
during the conversation, shows still more ill-will to this 
unfortunate man than any one else. He seems to flatter 
himself that there-is yet some chance of getting him hanged. 
He treats him not only as having been deficient in abilities, 



82 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

but as having been most ungrateful to the king and queen, 
from which last charge I defend him, in order to see what 
may be the amount of the inculpation ; and it resolves itself 
into two favors received from the court. First, pardon for 
having gone to America, notwithstanding an order given him 
to the contrary ; and next, promotion to the rank of marechal 
de camp over the heads of several who were, many of them, 
men of family. To crown all, he accuses him of the want of 
courage, and declares that he has seen him contumeliously 
treated without resenting it. To this I give as peremptory a 
negative as -good-breeding will permit, and he feels it. 

" Indeed, the conversation of these gentlemen, who have 
the virtue and good fortune of their grandfathers to recom- 
mend them, leads me almost to forget the crimes of the 
French Revolution ; and often, the unforgiving temper and 
sanguinary wishes which they exhibit, make me almost 
believe that the assertion of their enemies is true, viz., that 
it is the success alone which has determined on whose side 
should be the crimes, and on whose the misery." 

While the emigres, driven by democracy from their native 
soil, vowed hatred and vengeance against the prisoner of 
Olmutz, the French democrats had for him only the same 
malediction. His destiny, a truly frightful one, was to find 
pity from neither side. 

In 1796, Madame de Stael, whose generous heart and 
noble enthusiasm are well known, wrote to Morris the follow- 
ing letter, never published even in America until the appear- 
ance of the Life of Morris, and which you will like to 
see here, as a new proof of respect due to this illustrious 
woman. 

" I have no right to take this step in addressing you. I 
esteem you most highly ; but who would not esteem you ? 
1 admire your talents, for I have listened to you, and in this 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 33 

I am not singular. But what I have to ask of you is so 
much in accordance with your own feelings, that my letter 
will only repeat to you their dictates in poorer expressions. 
You are travelling through Germany, and whether on a 
public mission or not, you have influence ; for they. are not so 
stupid as not to consult a man like you. Open the prison 
door of M. de Lafayette, you have already saved his wife 
from death ; deliver the whole family. Pay the debt of your 
country. What greater service can any one render to his 
native land, than to discharge her obligations of gratitude ! 
Is there any severer calamity than that which has befallen 
Lafayette? Does any more glaring injustice attract the 
attention of Europe ; I speak to you of glory, yet I know a 
more elevated sentiment is the motive of your conduct. 

" The unhappy wife of M. de Lafayette has sent a 
message, in which she begs her friends to a'p'ply to him who 
has already heen^her preserver. I had no difficulty in recog- 
nising you, under this veil. In this period of terror, there 
are a thousand virtues by which they, who fear to pronounce 
your name, may distinguish you. For myself, who am more 
afllicted, I believe, than any one, by the fate of M. de Lafa- 
yette, I shall not have the presumption to imagine that my 
solicitations can influence you in his favor. But you cannot 
prevent me from admiring you, nor from feeling as grateful to 
you, as if you had granted to myself alone that which human- 
ity, your own glory, and both worlds expect of you. 

" Necker de Stael." 

Morris replied very coldly to this earnest letter, and con- 
tented himself with acting prudently, without going too fast, 
without hazarding anything. He forwarded, to the Emperor 
of Austria, the letter by which Washington requested the 
enfranchisement of M. do Lafayette. Again Madame de 
Stael wrote to Morris. 
2* 



34 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

'' The place where your letter was written, is enough to give 
me some hope. It is impossible you should be there without 
succeeding. Such glory is reserved for you, and there is 
none more delightful,' or more brilliant, for you, or for any 
man. It' is possible the opposition may have been indiscreet ; 
but could the unfortunate man, of whom they spoke, have 
solicited it of them ? It appears certain that his wife was 
kindly received by the emperor ; that he permitted her to 
write to him ; and that he has never received her letters. 
Humane and just as we are assured he is, would he have suf- 
fered the wife and children to be treated in the same manner ? 
The wife and children ! What a reward for such a noble 
iSelf-devotion ! It is as cruel as the condition from which you 
once before saved her. What do they expect? Do they 
wish that the earliest enemies of the unhappy man should be 
roused to claim that a period should be put to his misfortunes ? 
— that they should imitate the demand of the Romans from 
the Carthagenians ? It seems to me, if you were to speak for 
a single hour to those on whom his fate depends, all would be 
well. I have such experience of your influence over opinions 
which were even opposed to your own, that I am tempted to 
ask, — What effect would you not produce were you to lend 
your' intelligence and talent to second the persuasions of inte- 
rest ? Should you ask this, as the reward of your counsels, 
could it be refused ? In short, the idea that this calamity 
may be terminated by your exertion, this idea excites in me so 
much emotion, that without disguising to myself the indiscre- 
tion of a second letter, I could not deny myself the expression 
of this belief, which arises as much from admiration of you, 
as from pity for him. 

" Necker de Stael." 

Happily the arms of Bonaparte aided the eloquence of Cop- 
pet, the diplomacy of Morris, and the letters of Washington. 



UTERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 35 

M. de Lafayette was freed, and one of tbe most absurd and 
atrocious injustices of modern times was put an end to. The 
majority of historians, Walter Scott among them, give all the 
credit of the liberation to Bonaparte ; the documents furnished 
by Morris, prove that the proposition came from Austria, 
solicited by Morris and the President of the United States. 

Another European wreck, another fragment of revolution- 
ary lava, a name famous, proscribed, a victim, General 
Moreau, suddenly presents himself to Morris in his agricultu- 
ral establishment where he now only occupies himself in 
making his orchards prosper and in planting his park. 

" November 10th, 1807. — General Moreau comes to break- 
fast. Walk with him and endeavor to dissuade him from his 
projected journey to New Orleans. He is at length shaken, 
and would renounce it if his preparations were not too far 
advanced. 

*^' I persist, and at length render it doubtful in his mind. 
[ am certain this journey will be imputed by many evil 
meaning men to improper motives. He treats the chattering 
of idlers with contempt. But I tell him that such idlers form 
a power in Republics. That he must not suppose himself as 
free here as he would be in an absolute monarchy ; that his 
reputation makes him a slave to public opinion ; that he can- 
not with impunity do many things here which would be of no 
consequence in a country where he was surrounded by spies 
in the service of government ; because there, the Ministers 
having convinced themselves that his views are innocent, and 
his conduct irreproachable, he might safely laugh at the sus- 
picions both of the great vulgar and of the small ; but here 
where the same modes of knowing what men do are not 
adopted, every one is at liberty to suspect, and will decide 
rashly on appearances, after which it may be impossible to 
deracinate the ideas hastily, lightly, and unjustly assumed. 



36 ORIGIN AND riiOGRESS OF 

In the course of our conversation, touching very gently the 
idea of his serving (in case of necessity), against France, he 
declares frankly, that when the occasion arrives he shall feel 
no reluctance ; that, France having cast him out he is a 
citizen of the country in which he lives, and has the same 
right to follow his trade here, as any other man. And as it 
would be unjust to prevent a French hatter, whom Bonaparte 
might banish, from making hats, so it would be unjust to pre- 
vent a French General from making war. I assent to the 
truth of this observation, not because I believe it true, but 
because I will not impeach the reasons he may find it conve- 
nient to give to himself for his own conduct, should he here- 
after be employed in our service." 

What was false and trivial in Moreau's words has been suf- 
ficiently punished. 

How dificrent the result of different revolutions ! 

Moreau, wandering through the world, denies his country 
and dies by a French cannon ; Governeur Morris ends his 
honored old age in the bosom of the liberty he has founded, 
of the land he has served. 



SECTION VII. 

BROCKDEN BROWN WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Morris is very like a clever English naval officer, min- 
L'ling in the good society of the XVIIIth century ; Jonathan 
J'.dwards like a Scottish theologian of the XVIIth ; Ben- 
jamin Franklin is not far from the qualities which distinguish 
Goldsmith and his charming Vicar. All three lack origi- 
nality. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 37 

Brockden Brown, an American, resolved to break the 
charm ; he looked for originality, unfortunately it was not his 
own. Lewis, author of the Monk, head of the funereal and 
demoniac school was in full fashion ; Brown took him for 
model. 

He understood and could express passion. Instead of yield- 
ing to tlie timid scruples of his compatriots, he braved criti- 
cism and only looked for effect ; effect, factitious and exag- 
gerated^ Brown's demons are false demons ; his monsters 
result from predetermination ; his efforts of imagination are 
the strusrgles of an intelligence which wishes to create but 
which produces chimeras. There is a ridiculous supe^-excite- 
ment in these productions ; all is forced, violent, incoherent. 
Nothing spontaneous, natural, simple ; but always convul- 
sions, perpetual emphasis, and horrors crowded upon horrors. 

Whence comes this vehement exaggeration.? Why this 
unheard-of tendency to the pathetic, the immense, the roman- 
tic, fantastic, marvellous ? Because American society has 
nothing fantastic in it ; the drama and the dithyrambic arc 
exotics in the United States. Brown is already forgotten. It 
is the inevitable fate of all outre literature. False colors 
soon fade ; their own exaggeration destroys them. 

"Washington Irving, more modest and happier, has not pre- 
tended to so much grandeur ; he owes the renown which 
encircles him, not* to sallies of the imagination, creative 
thought or a lofty mental flight, but to a graceful imitation of 
old English literature. It is a somewhat timid copy, upon 
silk paper, of Addison, Steel and Swift. All that he writes 
glows with the gentle, agreeable lustre of watered silk. Cor- 
rect and agreeable, he pleases but does not move you : the 
sensations which he excites lack power. It is like a young 
lady of good family, well brought up, a slave to propriety, 
never elevating the voice, never exaggerating the tone, never 



38 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

guilty of the sin of eloquence, and careful not to have any 
energy, energy being often vulgar. Our intention is not to 
lower a really great merit, to depreciate a talent which we 
love. None know better than we, the excellence of a style 
without pretension and without emphasis, though not without 
grace, the coloring of which is harmonious and its form pure ; 
but we cannot dissemble, that there is a certain feebleness 
under these qualities. 

We may add that the characteristic merit of Mr. Irving 
has nothing American in it. All his thoughts direct them- 
selves towards England alone ; for her his wishes, his memo- 
ries ; he has for her a singularly superstitious and poetic 
worship, and takes her as the writers of Queen Anne's day 
exhibit her. Do not tell him that Addison's England is an 
embellished ideality, he will not hear you ; do not try to prove 
to him that Sir Roger de Coverley is a creature like Don 
Quixotte, a half-symbolic personage, to whom the man of talent 
has lent action, speech and costume. For Washington Irv- 
ing, all that the cotemporaries of Pope have written is gospel. 
He reproduces their phrases, he borrows their language. He 
loves even the noisy drunken hospitality of that day. This 
writer, who traces his lines not far from the savannahs of the 
Ohio, or in some square house in Boston, lives in thought in 
St. James' Park ; he wanders, in his reveries, through the 
shadowy alleys of Kensington ; he talks with Sterne ; he 
shakes hands with Goldsmith. He will soon don the rose- 
colored buckram and jerkin of the seventeenth century. Do 
not wake him ; he dreams of losing himself in the sinuous 
alleys of the old city ; he is listening to the winds which 
whistle by the great arched windows of the feudal mansions, 
or agitates the immense sign boards, so spoken against by 
Addison. All Irving's poetic Past is there ; rt is the charm 
of his works. The velvety and golden dream which enchants 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 39 

him, gives a delicious illusion to olden time, and makes of 
him the Wouvermans of Anglo-American literature. 

This delightful story-teller, is the son of a Scotchman 
established in New York and of an English lady. His feeble 
infancy and delicate youth, were passed in the neighborhood 
and in the city itself; '' which at that time," says an Ameri- 
can, "wa^ little like a metropolis or even a city of Europe." 
You still found an ingenuous morality in this growing city, 
where all the pleasures of a progressing prosperity, all the 
enjoyments of an internal well-being, were combined with the 
pleasant liberty and easy pleasures of an almost country life. 

" The advantageous situation of the port coused an affluence 
of dollars to the coffers of the merchant, for the inhabitants 
of other parts of the province had not yet come to colonize this 
fortunate spot and to demand their share of its profits. The 
fuldo's of the city saw the falling of the commercial manna, 
and busied themselves rather in enjoying the present, than in 
thinking of the future. They had not yet recognized the 
necessity of habituating their children to the discipline of 
labor and prudence. The cupidity engendered by gain, the 
close egotism of local concurrence, had not yet dried their 
hearts. You saw in these rapidly enriched families, patri- 
archal manners; they believed in domestic" happiness ; they 
did not resign their children for ten hours a day to the merce- 
nary care of the pedagogue ; they feared the suffocating atmo- 
sphere of the school-room ; they found time to bring them up 
themselves, and ' then sent them into the free air of the fields 
— and the neighborhood of New York was admirably adapted 
to this sort of education. A few minutes walk brought the 
city youth out into green fields ; under fresh shadows, to the 
brink of fair streams which, covered in the winter with thick 
ice, invited the skaters to rival the exploits of their Dutch an- 
cestors. The city of New York possessed the most pictur- 



40 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

esque site ; Edinburgh alone, in EuropCj could comparo 
with it. 

Now its rustic .environs no longer exist ; brick houses re- 
place the verdure ; the mason has chased away the gardener ; 
a rail-road has destroyed even the fresh grots of Hoboken." 
What Irving has of inmost and truest, comes from these al- 
most Dutch souvenirs of his childhood. 

lie went no farther than the flowery Me of Manhattan or 
the neighboring shores ; his imagination was cradled in citizen 
and peaceful memories. Never had he dreamed of far forests ; 
nor of the plumes that fall from the golden-robed flamingo, 
nor of the desert flower, nor of the columns of wild rock which 
edge the Mississippi. What grace and nobleness he has 
belonged to this primitive and simple sphere. His youth was 
passed in the midst of an active, commercial population, nor 
had he longed for living brooks which murmur through the 
he'art of antique woods, nor of the deer that crosses them, nor 
of the colonist's lodge, nor of lakes with gleaming waves» He 
early saw himself surrounded with small provincial rivalries, 
and his delicate observation, worthy of Teniers and of Wouv- 
ermans, was already in action. 

" The city," says a cotemporary, *' fifty years ago, exhibited 
the singular spectacle of various races distinct in origin, char- 
acter, physiognomy, struggling for a puerile pre-eminence. 
Time has done justice to those very little quarrels, and showed 
us their innocent absurdities in relief : all those shades are 
now confounded into one — but in that day, the Dutch Ameri- 
can stuck to his jargon as to a holy thing, his bitterness of a 
vanquished race, it is true, being much softened by his natural 
good temper. With the Dutch, mingled the French Protes- 
tants, banished by the edict of Nantes, and tempered the 
Dutch phlegm with Gallic vivacity. Then came the gentry 
and cavaliers of old England, proud of their genealogy and 



LITERATURE AXD ELOQUENCE. 41 

always citing their ancestors, who had come to the onco Butch 
colony and transformed it into a Britisli province given by 
Charles II., to his brother the Duke of York. You remarked 
too, the New Englander, the real American, distinguished by 
his intelligent activity, and already beginning with the Bata- 
vian that strife which has terminated in the nearly total dis- 
appearance of the patronymics of old burgomasters from the 
commercial streets. Finally, the last, the least numerous of 
this population, but at the same time the most important by 
their acquired wealth and mercantile influence, the Scotch — 
formed a clan, canny, calculating, enterprising, and joining to 
their habits of worldly knowledge and economy, hospitable 
manners and a love of good eating." 

The most loveable works of Irving, are those in which the 
delicate observation of his youth, is naively set forth. His 
satiric History of New York by Dietrich Knickerbocker, a 
parody on the Dutch minuteness, and the microscopic import- 
ance claimed for themselves by the very little — the Sketch 
Book, Bracebridge Hall, and the Talcs of a Traveller — works 
which will remain and which, indeed, are refined continuations 
of the style of Addison — constitute what one may call Irving's 
first manner. Criticism had accused him of feebleness ; he 
wished to rise higher, aad wrote the History of Christopher 
Columbus, and that of his companions — that of the Conquest 
of Grenada, and at last the Alhambra. In this second man- 
ner there is a little too high coloring and emphasis ; but the 
research is conscientious and the style brilliant. 

Returned among his compatriots, who had made him their 
ambassador to Spain, he undertook a voyage throughout the 
United States. 

The Falls of Niagara, the Lakes of Ghamplain and Erie, 
the banks of the Ohio, the majestic course of the Missisippi, 
formed the theatre of his first excursions. Then, with a 



42 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

troop of mounted pioneers, he penetrated into the territories 
of the warlike Pawnees, explored the prairies and forests, 
chased the wild horse and the buffalo, slept in the open air 
by the camp-fire or in the Indian wigwam. This expedition 
inspired a charming book. The recent Life of Mahomet and 
bis Successors is not a very clever production for so loveable 
and gracious a talent. 



SECTION VIII. 

The Novelist, Fennimore Cooper. 

With "Washington Irving appears the first light of vivid 
originality, which lends a halo to American literature. 

This dawn will grow with Fennimore Cooper. 

In his first romances, which awakened the attention of 
Europe, all is American, descriptions, inspirations, ideas, 
personages ; he copies only translantic nature ; certainly, he 
reproduces it minutely, long, without pause, without perspec- 
tive, but he is always American. You find his pictures 
rather dry, fatiguing, by the fidelity of their details ; the 
coldness of his coloring displeases ; you accuse him of 
prolixity ; the intrigue seems to be woven with a sufficient 
clumsiness ; and the play of the passions reveals itself with a 
mechanical punctuality, and a scrupulous stiffness. Now, 
these Calvinistic and American defects are not without 
interest ; the most rigid Quakerism seems to preside over 
Cooper's narration ; his style is the style of an indictment. 
Others are prodigal of rich coloring, and shade with boldness, 
valueless stories and things ; Cooper acts like the most con- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 43 

Bcientious of notaries ; he gives an inventory and a descrip- 
tion of the scene — a sheriff's officer levying, is less exact. 

He describes with talent, and often in his detailed pictures, 
only one thing is wanting — life. While he rehearses the least 
circumstances attending an action, the action rests unaccom- 
plished. This accumulation of small, particular facts, far 
from aiding the general effect of the picture, far from 
augmenting its interest, only seems to destroy it ; the dis- 
tracted and embarassed attention loses itself in this confused 
mass of minute particulars. Instead of disposing of his 
materials, arranging, commanding them as a master, he 
sometimes lets them get the better of him ; he is their 
slave. 

The author is as if in a jury-box, he tells the truth, and 
nothing but the truth. If two foemen fight with fierce rage 
upon the edge of a precipice, if there be between them 
issues of life and death. Cooper tells you the color of the 
rock ; how many feet it rises above the level of the sea ; 
whether it be of silex or granite ; what plants grow there ; 
what birds build there, its latitude. Another would be con- 
tent to set forth the vicissitudes of the combat, the convulsions 
of suffering, the triumph, the agony. But this is not enough 
for Cooper. Every muscle of the combatants must be 
visible ; he shows his subject not merely naked, but skinned. 

If such a system were to prevail, a grain of sand or 
a butterfly's wing would serve as a text for volumes ; there 
is no reason why authors should ever stop in their descrip- 
tions. 

A savage comes upon the scene ; you must describe his 
bow, his arrows, his tomahawk, his tobacco-pouch, and his 
pipe ; the coarse sculpture with which these objects are 
adorned would fill more than one page ; if, after that, you 
give to your reader, a biography of the child of the wilderness 



44 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

and of his forefathers, look where 'you will get to. Let a 
painter of style, Holbein or Mieris, be faithful in minutia, 
scrupulously exact, and I understand him ; his art can seize 
but a moment, and he must compensate for this by not 
neglecting a single particular. The business of poetry, on 
the contrary, is motion ; it takes an action, describes its course, 
reproduces its mobility, follows its rapid progress, developcs 
its Causes and results. It has its grand masses and its value- 
less circumstances ; a lively impulse draws it along. If it 
were to strive to reproduce everything, after the manner 
of still-life painters, it would deprive itself of its most precious 
resources. 

This is what happens to Cooper. There is a certain 
dryness in his finest 'pictures ; half of what the romancer 
tells us, we are perfectly indifferent to : the outlines are stiff 
and full of mannerism. The author seems to trouble himself 
much less about his characters, and the incidents which 
occupy them, than about the circumstances which surround 
them and the little particulars which accompany them. So 
that characters well drawn and true, are often in want of 
grace and freshness. Compared with the characters whom 
we meet in the world, they are like what flowers preserved 
in an herbal are to the flowers of the meadow. There are 
the petals, the stamens, the corolla, the leaves, but where as 
the dew of heaven, the breath of morning and of night, which 
embalms the flower in its perfumes, the sap that circulates 
through the minutest pistil and the frail column which sup- 
ports it. All this I look for in vain ; Nature, so vivid, gay, 
animated ; in which respires a soul so ardent, in whose silence 
there is so much eloquence ; Nature with its eternal, inex- 
haustible power of life appears sterile and dead in the pictures 
drawn by Cooper. The more they ought to have savage 



LITER ATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 45 

grandeur and energy, the more is one astonished at the con- 
trast between his manner and the objects which he describes. 

These are the defects which the mighty talent of Cooper 
owes to the doctrinal severity and Calvinist rigidity inherent 
in the Anglo-American colonies. Yet, nevertheless, if 
Cooper be the slave of physical objects, that slavery has its 
power, he re-paints those objects with a dry sincerity. If he 
babble sometimes, he never lies. If he be prosaic, he is true. 
Read his chef-cVanLvrc^ the Pilot, a romance little understood, 
whose heroes are the ship and the sea. This work, admirable 
for its unity and its vigor, perfumed with odors of the deep, 
impregnated with foam and salt water, apotheosis of Man 
governing the Ocean as a cavalier his rebellious steed, could 
only have been written by an Anglo-American, passionate 
lover of the deep, fanatic for human industry, and its rudest 
triumphs. 

No American writer before Cooper, had carried repro- 
duction embellished by American thought and life so far. 
Irving himself, in rejuvenating the style and manner of 
Addison, had drawn too much from the antique and forgotten 
Bources of English literature. Cooper's touch is more 
vigorous ; there is a translantic freshness in his works. 

This is an honor, a glory, a happiness, which fow authors 
can enjoy. Rarely does one associate oneself so intimately 
with the civilization of his native land. And what a civiliza- 
tion ! What a land ! So vast and wild an aspect ! So 
gigantic a nature ! There is something strange in this strife 
of our industries, of our arts, of our ideas, transplanted to a 
new soil, forced to grapple with savage life, and to conquer it. 

The genius of the artist has not yet penetrated into the 
solitudes of America ; you look for him vainly in the cities. 
It is the genius of the artisan which founded this civilization 



46 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

and which sustains this Republic. You will find it in his 
romances ; it is imprinted on his physiognomy. 

Examine with attention this fine portrait which Madame de 
Mirhel has painted after nature. You perceive that this 
man, with his severe, vigilant eye, must observe physical 
objects with redoubtable attention and perseverance. An 
austere simplicity reigns in those features, drawn with hard- 
ness, animated by powerful genius, and without mobility. If 
there be any curved lines, they are separated from one another 
by hollows, by profound furrows or wrinkles ; energy, promp- 
titude, decision, firmness immovable, power of attention, per- 
severance, these are the characteristics of that essentially 
American face. Apply to this exterior and physiognomical 
examination the rules of Doctor Gall, and you find a high, 
singularly cut forehead, a positive phrenologic curiosity. On 
one hand, the organs of eventuality, locality, and individuality 
/most employed by the romance writer) start out, as it were, 
and detach themselves in bumps ; on the other hand, the 
organs of causality, comparison of objects And gaiety, separated 
from the former by an austere line, form a projection no less 
prominent. The restless, piercing eye seems to be always in 
search of some new observation ; the strange smile, sardonic 
and severe, announces a faculty of irony governed by an in- 
flexible reason. The compression of the lips indicates a 
silent concentration of thought, without which there is no real 
talent. Cooper's stature is tall ; his manners are frank and 
sim'ple. The vigor of his mind, and the strength of his 
republican conviction, give to his whole face and outward man 
a strong, manly expression, which does not accord with the 
ideas of refinement a,nd recherche grace which civilization 
usually attaches to the literary profession. 

When Robinson Crusoe perceived the trace of Friday's 
steps upon the beach, he was not more astounded than the 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 47 

European public at the moment of learning from Cooper's 
romances that one could live in New York, be born on the 
banks of the Delaware, imitate nobody and yet possess genius. 
For some time critics had decided that talent was irrecon- 
cileable with one's quality of American. ADutch danseuse, 
an Esquimaux Venus de Medicis would not have been received 
with a profounder surprise, that a good novelist or poet, 
brought up in the United States, — that mercantile country, 
that nation insensible to art, give a rival to Walter Scott ! 

There were writers of Scottish history before the author of 
Old Mortality. Scottish superstitions and customs had fur- 
nibbed the subject of numerous and careful researches. Mrs. 
Grant, Buins, Allan Ramsay, Buchanan, Macpherson, had 
preceded Walter Scott. Cooper had no predecessor. Un- 
worn paths presented themselves to him on every side. An 
inexhaustible variety of materials ; scenes demanding a 
theatre; pictures demanding a frame ; points of view asking 
for a painter ; everywhere novelty, quaintness, marvels : a 
quite modern interest, a people hardly out of swaddlino^ 
clothes and already mighty ; a history whose first pages gleam 
with civilization, and speak of conquest ; the singularity of 
calm, pious, persevering heroism ; the names of Washington, 
Penn, Franklin ; for background the forest of ages ; for 
actors, the Apostles of the New \Yorld treating with the 
children of the wigwam and the calumet; the progress of 
European art in the midst of these masterless solitudes ; the 
combat between son and father — of the oppressed with the 
oppressor ; these demanding, those wishing to destroy liberty 
and tolerance : what do I know — perhaps a new social era is 
now born for the world and will issue from Philadelphia ! 

Cooper has seized with vigorous frankness th.e scattered 
elements which he found before him. He was careful not to 
corrupt their charm, or to change their purity, by an imitation 



48 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

of the Roman or the Greek ; he has told, even in the language 
of the United States, the extraordinary adventures whose 
theatre was that vast continent or its surrounding seas. 

Those who play in his drama, have come out from the hut 
of the colonist, the cabin of the savage, the shop of the 
tradesman ; the gigantic nature of the land reflects itself in 
his books as in a mirror. 

For his compatriots, Cooper was the Homer of their civiliza- 
tion ; the bard who perpetuated their glory. To Europeans 
he gave a pleasure till then unknown. 

I have not concealed his faults of manner. We can pardon 
them, in consideration of their intimate analogy with the 
author and his race. 

Cooper is Calvinist ; he tells a fact dryly, but with a pro- 
fundity and truth which fascinate the hearer. He searches 
no eclat in his descriptions ; he does not give colored or dark 
masses. He manages the whole so well, enriches it so exactly 
with its constituent elements, that you fancy you can distin- 
guish each detail ; be it a forest cabin ; a vulgar hearthside, 
a wreck floating in the distance, he forces you to read, by his 
perfect exactitude, his extreme truth ; and the description of 
a trivial object, without picturesque charms, will be to you 
more interesting than that of a magnificent site, a sublime 
spectacle, vaguely drawn or daubed with vivid colors. The 
women even, who always look for action and interest in a 
novel, have not the courage to skip the descriptions of Cooper. 
If you begin to read, you must devour all. Yet, he repeats 
himself; he goes over and over the portrait already sketched 
by his pencil. He will not omit one plank of the frigate, one 
tree of the wood. His diction is slow, sometimes even labori- 
ous and embarrassed ; but it reproduces everything, green- 
gleaming savannahs, stretches of sand, old oaks and limitless 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 49 

deserts ; lakes like the oceans — the shadows of those forests 
whose shadows are eternal. 

Let him go upon the sea, and his enthusiasm becomes a 
religious passion. You would say that the waves were his, so 
beautiful in their terror, so sublime in their truth are his 
maritime pictures. He docs not show you the phantom of a 
vessel or the phantom of an ocean ; a painted ship upon a 
painted sea ; but all, on his barks or around them, is action 
and life, character and poetry. 

Enemy of the vague, never pleased with it, nor admitting 
it into his pictures, he surrounds you with accessories so nu- 
merous, so true, so detailed that even their insignificance adds 
to the truth of the whole. The sails swell, the cables rattle, 
the yards creak, the tar smokes, the sailors sing, the captain 
whistles, the billow foams, the wave strikes noisily the side of 
the ship. There is no more land, nor anything that recalls 
it. But when the land reappears, you find yourself cast upon 
a new shore, deserted, unknown. 

He is the most positive novelist that ever existed. He 
anatomises without idealizing. Sometimes his portraits bor- 
der on caricature ; his defect is that he exaggerates and seeks 
out too curiously their characteristic traits. He is never false, 
but he dissects his model. Some of his personages are gro- 
tesque, others bizarre. There is every description of charac- 
ter in his works from baseness to heroism, from gaiety to 
terror ; all stand out from the canvas, speak to the imagina- 
tion, and having arrested the attention, are recognized as hu- 
man, as beings who have lived, and who would still be alive if 
the narrator had not analyzed them to death. His portraits 
of women, however, exhibit an almost Shakspearian delicacy 
of observation. They are not women of the court, nor ele- 
gant women ; they are not superhuman beings, but women. 
Goodness, sweetness, natural grace and a naive majesty sur- 
3 



50 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

round them with a charming halo. Their beauty and devo- 
tion lighten and console the most inaccessible retreats, solace 
the sorrows of the man, and pour balm upon his wounds. 
Moral sentiment joined to their physical beauty, patience 
and serenity of soul constitute their characteristics. A good 
housekeeper, the wife of Heathcote in the Borderers, for in- 
stance, is far more charming than all oriental sylphs, or the 
brilliant princesses of Calprenede ; her exterior is not remark- 
able, her life is peaceable and humble ; well-being and repose 
are around her ; treasures of gentleness and charity are in her 
bosom. In a^word it is a woman. 

Among the numerous novels published by Cooper, that 
which is most characteristically original, is the " Last of the 
Mohicans." You would look vainly in the whole library of 
romance for its parallel. Smollett's or Fielding's sailors, or 
Scott's beggars have disappeared. The eternal family of 
heroes, who perpetuate themselves from fiction to fiction has 
vanished. You are in a new world where the original genius 
of the human race exists in its majesty. The child of the 
wilderness rises and paints himself before you. He has 
neither ornaments nor dress. He is alone, apart, a stranger 
to all civilization ; master of all around him, recognizing no 
master himself. King of his wilderness, he has no slaves. 
The passions, vices, virtues of society are to him unknown. 
Surrounding nature is grand, like himself. She has secret 
pleasures for him which the rest of the world ignore. This 
romance so full of magic and marvellous freshness, makes us 
live the life of primitive solitudes, and makes us the friend of 
man as they nurture him. 

How remarkable and true are the characters of this drama. 
All bear the impression of the powerful hand which traced 
them. The old Indian and his son are symbols of the savage 
life. Still more do I admire Longue Carabine, a being placed 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 51 

between the wilderness and civilization ; intermediate link 
between social industry and primitive independence. He is 
neither European nor wild Indian. The reflecting heroism 
which follows civilization, tempers the violent heroism which 
pervades it. If he have not quite lost the desire of ven- 
geance and the stoicism of his fathers, he yet guesses instinct- 
ively the scrupulous demands of honor, and raises himself to 
a generosity whose grandeur he feels. 

The Prairie contains characteristic and detailed descrip- 
tions ; it is the most beautiful picture of the kind drawn by 
his pen. After having read it, you could fancy that you had 
lived on the banks of those streams, a thousand times crossed 
that prairie ; questioned those charming scenes, and made 
them echo with your voice. We must add that this pleasure 
is purchased by an ennui caused by spinnings-out, and digres- 
sions and that this picture, so faithful, may be charged with 
prolixity. 

The Spy has its partisans. Harvey Birch is a dramatic 
creation : to sacrifice to one's country not only life, but honor, 
is the greatest of sacrifices. How can one help admiring this 
hero of patriotism, who makes a glory of his infamy, and 
inwardly consoles himself for the opprobrium which covers 
him, by the sentiment of what he has done for his country. 
As to Washington, Cooper has idealized him with great talent ; 
a no easy matter. 

The interest of the Borderers is the most powerful. The 
Red Rover and the Pilot are greater as maritime pictures 
than as romances ; nor does the Water Witch jdeld to these 
latter. Everything is- picturesque, energetic and yet positive. 
The real and magnificent are mingled. 

I love Tom Coffin, king of the deep, who cannot live on 
land, who breathes more freely on a lake, begins to enjoy 
existence on the Mediterranean, and finds hiuiself in posses- 



52 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

sion of all his faculties and all his happiness, only in ploughing 
with free keel, the vast floods of ocean. For this man there 
is no victory but that over the billows ; no heroism save in 
the strife with them, no happiness but in this warfare. Coarse, 
barbarous, vulgar, he is yet great, for he represents the energy 
of humanity fighting with the energy of nature. 

Cooper has his defects which we have not forgotten to indi- 
cate. Before him the world had never seen a novelist who 
was manufacturer, industriel^ artisan. He materializes the 
interest of his best pages. If he launches a vessel, you will 
read a treatise on ship-building. If a rope break, you will 
learn how ropes are made, and by what mechanical means the 
accident might have been prevented. He says all^ which is 
too much. He will not leave one detail unexplained^ not a 
hatchway unanalyzed, nor a corner of the vessel without men- 
tioning the wood of which she is built. Enemy of the ideal, 
he is like a chemist or mechanician — who must render a full 
account. He observes even men in this way, submitting 
them to a laborious and inexorable examination. 

The history of his life is short. His family, originally 
from Buckinghamshire, England, moved to America about 
1679. He was born at Burlington, on the Delaware, in 1789, 
and his education was commenced at Yale College, New 
Haven. At the age of thirteen, he entered the navy. This 
apprenticeship formed his spirit ; here he collected the ele- 
ments of those pictures so much admired. He married the 
daughter of Pierre de Lancy, quitted the service, and since 
that time has given himself up to the composition of his books. 

Every year came a new one. Translated into German, 
French, Italian, they produced a vivid sensation in Europe. 

He passed a good deal of his life in Europe, especially at 
Paris. In England, his frankness, austerity and clearly-ex- 
pressed republicanism and his national pride displeased. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 53 

In America, the same puritan sincerity, his reprobation of 
democratic vices, in a word, his plain-speaking, of which he 
was proud, and which he pushed to excess ; did not help to 
conciliate the love of his compatriots. 

Inferior in art and style to the great European romancers, 
there is yet a vivid historical interest attached to his works, 
which philosophy will never read without curiosity. There, 
the pure Saxon race struggles with the savages, the solitude, 
the desert, hunger and nature. It is the same blood, cool and 
persevering valor, love of gain, industry, audacity, enter- 
prize, which marked the old Norman conquests ; it is the same 
force without vivacity ; the same sagacity without frivolity, 
the same ferocity towards a fighting enemy, the same pardon 
for the conquered, and the same faith in human power. 

This indestructible permanence of races, of their soul and 
genius, is a magnificent spectacle for the philosopher. The 
Gaul of the days of Brennus, the French Canadian or the 
Marquis under Louis XIV., are recognizable by indelible 
marks — the indomitable Caradoc, Hastings in India, and 
Cromwell's Puritan unite in the Last of the Saxons — the 
American Trapper ! 



SECTION IX. 

PAULDING THE BROTHER JONATHAN DOCTOR CHANNING. 

To those whose claims we have just examined, we might 
add Joel Barlow, author of the Columhiad^ a poem which 
has both eloquence and vigor ; and Paulding, whose Dutch- 
mail's Firesidej a pleasant elegy, is a soft and enfeebled 
imitation of the Vicar of Wakefield ; and the biographer of 
Brother Jonathan^ a cleverly puerile writer, for whom a 



54 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

mole-hill is a mountain, and a drop of milk, the ocean. The 
vigor of creation ; the energy of original intelligence, are not 
to be found in any of these authors, in a sufficient measure to 
class them among men of genius. Cooper excepted. Doctor 
Channing, the most eloquent sacred writer of America, has 
a claim to our attention — the peculiar characteristics of his 
race and country are to be found in his works. 

I doubt whether there be a quite impartial eloquence ; yet, 
Dr. Channing tries to establish impartiality, equity, and 
balance of opinions. This is just and reasonable, but that 
may be equally so ; these opinions may be sustained, yet the 
opposing ones have their probable and plausible side. Dr. 
Channing collects the most contradictory axioms which he 
strives to unite into a republic ; to this barren labor, he 
applies an unequalled tact and diplomacy ; he condemns, 
absolves, criticises, and praises ; he is not only eclectic, but 
hospitable to every theory. Ancient prejudice has it merit, 
paradox its advantage. You may defend the one without 
warring against the other ; can win approbation from all 
sides, and manage to win glory without belonging to any par- 
ticular flag. 

This cowardice of thought, this feeble terror of opinion, 
will disappear as more advanced civilization comes to the 
United States. The actual fashion of American institutions ; 
the natural and necessary action of a people who use all their 
efforts for the material conquest of Nature and the creation 
of industry, causes all men to march in battalion and towards 
the same point. There is no more fr.ee opinion, no more 
hardiness of intellect. An inexorable ostracism, banishes all 
that passes a certain limit. Anathema on that thought which 
leaves the common hive ! 

Hence we have an universal complaisance, simple and easy, 
in received ideas. Now if everybody is to be like everybody 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 55 

else, common ideas will have the precedence, for they are the 
most general, and whosoever will dare attack them, will out- 
rage the whole community and insult each of its members — 
then he will be treated like a general enemy. One does not 
like to commit lese-vulgaire ; one thinks like all the rest of 
the world ; chokes one's fantasies, marches in the ranks and 
keeps step, and does not wish to become the black sheep of 
the flock. Political liberty ends by enslaving thought. 

This can only be a temporary position. So soon as the 
material interests are satisfied, an opposition to the weight of 
opinion will soon be formed. Independence will be born ; 
the free essays of intelligence will not be crimes, the popular 
inquisition will vanish and each frater-familias will cease to 
be what Cooper calls " a Familiar of the republican Holy 
Office." 

This democratic sin, this wish to tickle the mob and to 
please everybody, is too easily recognized in the works of Dr. 
Channing. The tomb of Mahomet, suspended between hea- 
ven and earth does not vascillate in a more perilous position. 
The doctor loves liberty, but he does not deny that despotism 
has its advantages. He wants Em-ope to applaud him, but 
he must have also the praises of America. Looking at the 
same moment at the two worlds, trembling lest he lose popu- 
larity in either ; bowing to all parties, flinging a bit of flattery 
to every sect, reserving a means of retreat and an asylum in 
all possible opinions ; unitarian without exaggeration, he ex- 
cuses the errors of the Catholic Church, at the moment that 
he confesses the merit and eloquence of the French philoso- 
phers accused of atheism ; he loves the republic and defends 
the Bourbons ; will not repulse the Jesuits but acknowledges 
their errors ; insults Bonaparte without questioning his genius ; 
is hostile neither to imagination nor cleverness, provided that 
they be moderate and serious ; he is very fond of philosophi- 



5f> ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

cal criticism but united to religion, and is devoted to the in- 
terests of the Faith, so long as it is tolerant. In a word, he 
has so much reserve in his predilections, so many modifica 
tions in his opinions, so many withdrawals, shades, conditions, 
amendments and amendments to amendments, that it is very 
difficult to find out what this republican soul is or desires. If 
he judge Milton or Bonaparte, he lacks the courage. Be- 
fore such giants his pencil trembles ; he understands only 
common ambitions. When, for instance, the doctor thun- 
ders against conquerors, and upholds the literary profession, 
it is like a pedagogue vaunting his grammar, elevating his 
own profession above all others, and considering himself as 
the equal of heroes. " I have known," says Fielding, " an 
excellent man, with but one absurdity. It was to consider a 
schoolmaster as the greatest man on earth, and himself as the 
greatest of schoolmasters. These two ideas could not have 
been driven out of his head, though Alexander himself, at the 
head of his armies, should have attempted it." 

There are strong and beautiful pages in the works of Chan- 
ning ; though that eloquence sustained, elaborated and got up 
for effect recalls too much the declamations of Seneca the 
Rhetorician, or of Thomas the Academician. And thus, in 
spite of real talent and powerful solemnity, Channing takes 
no marked place among original writers. 

Nations, like men, do not discover tkeir proper originality 
until after long trials. Under the Puritans the literature of 
the United States is only a servile reproduction of the cross 
sermons of the Covenanters. With Franklin, and the A7?ieri' 
can Cultivator, the American soul finds voice and accent, 
agreeable and graceful, but indistinct. Thus, in Irving, some 
pictures of American nature, or of Dutch households arc 
gracefully and vigorously prominent. Fennimorc Cooper fol- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 67 

lows them closely and pushes farther on the slow creation of 
a new literature. 

In Cooper, nature is more than man. The interest of his 
romances is concentrated upon nature, upon the sea, on the 
prairies ; and one sometimes regrets that he has spoken of 
anything but the waves or the forests, so much does man dis- 
appear in these vast solitudes. 

There is a traveller, who, occupied exclusively with the 
birds, lakes, wild deer, the eagle and his haunts, and identify- 
ing himself with whatever is mighty in nature, has become a 
great writer, superior in our view, to the loveable Irving and 
to his vigorous successor. 



SECTION X. 

AUDUBON. 

Had you visited the English drawing-rooms in 1832, you 
would have remarked in the midst of a philosophic crowd, 
speaking obscurely, and overthrowing without pity, the highest 
questions of metaphysics, a man very different from those 
around him. 

The absurd and mean European dress could not disguise 
that simple and almost wild dignity which is found in the bo- 
som of the solitude which nurses it. While men of letters, a 
vain and talking race, disputed, in the conversational arena 
the prize of epigram or the laurels of pedantry, the man of 
whom I speak remained standing, head erect, with free, proud 
eye, silent, modest, listening sometimes with disdainful though 
not caustic air, to the aasthetic tumult which seemed to aston- 
ish him. If he spoke, it was at an interval of repose j with 



58 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

one word he discovered an error, and brought back discussion 
to its principle and its object. A certain naive and wild good 
sense animated his language, which was just, moderate and 
energetic. His long, black waving hair was parted naturally 
upon his smooth white forehead, upon a front capable of con- 
taining and guarding the fires of thought. In his whole dress, 
there was an air of singular neatness ; you would have said 
that the waters of some brook, running through the untrod- 
den forest, and bathing the roots of oaks, old as the world, 
had served him for mirror. 

At the sight of that long hair, that bared throat, the inde- 
pendent manner, the manly elegance which characterized him, 
you would have said, " that man has not lived long in old 
Europe ; our civilization, mother of the affected politeness so 
universal in courts, cities, and villages, and substituting sym- 
bols for true sentiments, had not left its common trace on him. 
He has not been crushed by its weight. The alloy, the falsity 
of society form no part of his character or his manners. 

It is pleasant to encounter such a man in those loquacious 
and scientific assemblies, where so many talents and pre- 
• tendons bore you. If you add to what we have already given, 
a frank, calm face, clearly cut features, an eye quick, ardent, 
penetrating and fixed as a falcon's, a foreign accent, unusual 
expressions, highly colored, and brief, picturesque and clever, 
without seeming to be so, you will have a tolerably exact por- 
trait of the Historian of Birds, the American Audubon. 

He has quitted his name and calls himself the " American 
Woodsman ;" and it is the only title which would suit him. 
The wilderness was his study room. He has overrun 
thoroughly those great deserts peopled by wild animals. As 
he respired the air charged with emanations of the primitive 
vegetation, he drew in with it that dignified self-respect, that 
consciousness of human energy which has never quitted him. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 69 

Audubon was nurtured in love for nature. He passed his life 
in the open air, at the foot of a tree whose branches were the 
homo of the feathered people whose habits he came to study 
and which he never lost sight of. The path which he chose, 
was that where the bird was hopping. The nest of the 
eagle whose throne was the peak of some inaccessible rock 
did not frighten him ; he gave to this study the patience of a 
Benedictine and the passion of an artist ; he has pursued his 
task through every peril, and recommenced it with unequalled 
perseverance. His dreams were winged, and full of melodious 
songs and murmurs ; the forms of his favorites haunted his 
thoughts. 

Do not mistake nor accuse of singularity this vocation 
which Audubon has received from God. He was ornitholo- 
gist from his cradle. He needed the winged race to paint, ob- 
serve, describe and love, sweet woodland concerts to hearken 
to, brilliant plumage to reproduce, wandering pinions whose 
curves and spiral flights he might follow. 

Let us see how he analyzes this instinct of solitary observa- 
tion ; this devotion to an innocent study ; this abnegation of 
all material cares, this intellectual force, which taught him , 
without a master, natural history in the depth of the forests, 
and made him alone complete an important branch of science 
which one had always despaired of completing. 

" I received life and light in the New AYorld. When I 
had hardly yet learned to walk, and to articulate those first 
words, always so endearing to parents, the productions of 
nature that lay spread all around, were constantly pointed out 
to me. They soon became my playmates ; and before my 
ideas were sufficiently formed to enable me to estimate the 
difference between the azure tints of the sky, and the emerald 
hue of the bright foliage; I felt that an intimacy with them, 
not consisting of friendships merely, but bordering on frenzy, 



60 ORIGIN AND TROGRESS OF 

must accompany my steps through life ; and now, more than 
ever, am I persuaded of the power of those early impressions. 
They laid such hold upon me, that, when removed from the 
woods, prairies, and the brooks, or shut up from the view of 
the wide Atlantic, I experienced none of those pleasures most 
congenial to my mind. None but aerial companions suited 
my fancy. No roof seemed so secure to me as that formed 
of the dense foliage under which the feathered tribes were 
seen to resort, or the caves and fissures of the massy rocks to 
whicfi the dark winged cormorant and the curlew retired to 
rest, or to protect themselves from the fury of the tempest. 
My father generally accompanied my steps, procured birds 
and flowers for me with great eagerness, — pointed out the ele- 
gant movements of the former, the beauty and softness of 
their plumage, the manifestations of their pleasure or sense 
of danger, — and the always perfect forms and splendid attire 
of the latter. My valued preceptor would then speak of the 
departure and the return of birds with the seasons, would de- 
scribe their haunts, and, more wonderful than all, their change 
of livery; thus exciting me to study them, and to raise my 
mind toward their great Creator. A vivid pleasure shone 
upon those days of my early youth, attended with a calmness 
of feeling, that seldom failed to rivet my attention for hours, 
whilst I gazed in ecstacy upon the pearly and shining eggs, as 
they lay imbedded in the softest down, or among dried leaves 
and twigs, or were exposed upon the burning sand or weather- 
beaten rock of our Atlantic shores. I was taught to look 
upon them as flowers yet in the bud. I watched their open- 
ing, to see how nature had provided each different species 
with eyes, either open at birth, or closed for some time after ; 
to trace the slow progress of the young birds toward perfec- 
tion, or admire the celerity with which some of them, while 
y(it unfledged, removed themselvee from danger to security. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 61 

I grew up, and my wishes grew with my form. These 
wishes, kind reader, were for the entire possession of all that 
I saw. I was fervently desii'ous of becoming acquainted with 
nature. For many years, however, I was sadly disappointed, 
and for ever, doubtless, must I have desires that cannot be 
gratified. The moment a bird was dead, however beautiful it 
had been when in life, the pleasure arising from the posses- 
sion of it became blunted ; and although the greatest cares 
were bestowed on endeavors to preserve the appearance of 
nature, I looked upon its vesture as more than sullied, as 
requiring constant attention and repeated mendings, while, 
after all, it could no longer be said to be fresh from the hands 
of its Maker. I wished to possess all the productions of na- 
ture, but I wished life with them. This was impossible ; then 
what was to be done ? I turned to my father, and made 
known to him my disappointment and anxiety. He produced 
a book of illustrations. A new life ran in my veins. I 
turned over the leaves with avidity ; and although what I 
saw was not what I longed for it gave me a desire to copy 
nature. To nature I went, and tried to imitate her, as in the 
days of my childhood. I had tried to raise myself from the 
ground and stand erect, before nature had imparted the vigor 
necessary for the success of such an undertaking. How 
sorely disappointed did I feel for many years, when I saw that 
my productions were worse than those which I ventured (per- 
haps in silence) to regard as bad, in the book given me by 
my father ! My pencil gave birth to a family of cripples. So 
maimed were most of them, that they resembled the mangled 
corpses on a field of battle, compared with the integrity of 
living men. These difficulties and disappointments irritated 
me, but never for a moment destroyed the desire of obtaining 
perfect representations of nature. The worse my drawings 
were, the more beautiful did I see the eriginals. To have 



62 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

been torn from the study would have been as death to me. 
My time was entirely occupied with it. 

" I produced hundreds of these rude sketches annually ; 
and for a long time, at my request, they made bonfires on the 
anniversaries of my birth-day. Patiently, and with industry, 
did I apply myself to study, for, although I felt the impossi- 
bility of giving life to my productions, I did not abandon the 
idea of representing nature. Many plans were successfully 
adopted, many masters guided my hand. At the age of 
seventeen, when I returned from France, whither I had gone 
to receive the rudiments of my education, my drawings had 
assumed a form. David had guided my hand in tracing 
objects of large sizes, eyes and noses belonging to giants, and 
heads of horses represented in ancient sculpture, were my 
models. These, although fit subjects for men intent on pursu- 
ing the higher branches of the art, were immediately laid aside 
by me. I returned to the woods of the New World with fresh 
ardor, and commenced a collection of drawings which I 
henceforth continued, and which is now publishing, under 
the title of * The Birds of America.' To these illustra- 
tions, I shall often refer you, good-natured reader, in the 
sequel, that you may judge of them yourself. Should you 
discover any merit in them, happy would the expression of 
your approbation render me, for I should feel that I had not 
spent my life in vain. You can best ascertain the truth of 
these delineations. I am persuaded that you love nature — 
that you admire and study her. Every individual possessed 
of a sound heart listens with delight to the love-notes of the 
woodland warblers. He never casts a glance upon their 
lovely forms without proposing to himself questions respecting 
them ; nor does he look on the trees which they frequent, or 
the flowers over which they glide, without admiring their 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 63 

grandeur, or delighting in their sweet odors, or their brilliant 
tints. 

^' In Pennsylvania, a beautiful State, almost central on the 
line of our Atlantic shores, my father, in his desire of proving 
my friend through life, gave me what Americans call a 
" beautiful plantation," refreshed during the summer heats by 
the waters of the Schuylkill river, and traversed by a creek 
named Perkioming, its fine woodlands, its extensive fields, its 
hills crowned with evergreens, offered many subjects to my 
pencil. It was there that I commenced my simple and 
agreeable studies, with as little concern about the future as 
if the world had been made for me. ISly rambles invariably 
commenced at break of day ; and to return wet with dew, 
and bearing a feathered prize, was, and ever will be, the 
highest employment for which I have been fitted. Yet think 
not, reader, that the enthusiasm which I felt for my favorite 
pursuits was a barrier opposed to the admission of gentler 
sentiments. Nature, which had turned my young mind 
towards the bird and the flower, soon proved her influence 
upon my heart. Be it enough to say, that the object of my 
passion has long since blessed me with the name of husband. 
And now let us return, for who cares to listen to the love-tale 
of a naturalist, whose feelings may be supposed to be as light 
as the feathers which he delineates ! 

" For a period of nearly twenty years, my life was a succes- 
sion of vicissitudes. . I tried various branches of commerce, 
but they all proved unprofitable, doubtless because my whole 
mind was ever filled with my passion for rambling and 
admiring those objects of nature from which alone I received 
the purest gratification. I had to struggle against the will 
of all who at that period called themselves my friends, I 
must here, however, except my wife and children. The 
remarks of my other friends irritated me beyond endurance, 



G4 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

and breaking through all bounds, I gave myself entirely up 
to my pursuits. Any one acquainted with the extraordinary 
desire which I then felt of seeing and judging for myself, 
would doubtless have pronounced me callous to every sense 
of duty, and regardless of every interest. I undertook long 
and tedious journeys, ransacked the woods, the lakes, the 
prairies, and the shores of the Atlantic. Years were spent 
away from my family, yet, reader, will you believe it, I had 
no other object in view than simply to enjoy the sight of 
nature. Never for a moment did I conceive the hope of 
becoming in any degree useful to my kind, until I accidentally 
formed acquaintance with the Prince of Musignano at Phila- 
delphia, to which place I went, with the view of proceeding 
eastward along the coast. I reached Philadelphia on the 
5th April, 1824, just as the sun was sinking beneath the 
horizon. Excepting the good Dr. Mease, who had visited 
me in my younger days, I had scarcely a friend in the city ; 
for I was then unacquainted with Harlem, Wetherell, 
Macmurtrie, Lesueur, or Sully. I called on him and 
showed him some of my drawings. lie presented me to 
the celebrated Charles Lucian Bonaparte, who in his 
turn introduced me to the Natural History Society of Phila- 
delphia. But the patronage which I so much needed 
I soon found myself compelled to seek elsewhere. I left 
Philadelphia, and visited New York, where I was received 
with a kindness well suited to elevate my depressed spirits ; 
and afterwards, ascending that noble stream the Hudson, 
glided over our broad lakes, to seek the wildest solitudes of 
the pathless and gloomy forests, 

" It was in these forests that, for the first time, I com- 
muned with myself as to the possible, event of my visiting 
Europe again ; and I began to fancy my work under the mul- 
tiplying efforts of the graver. Happy days and nights of 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. " 65 

pleasing dreams ; I read over the catalogue of my collections, 
and thought how it might be possible for an unconnected and 
unaided individual like myself to accomplish the grand 
scheme." 

"I left the village of Henderson, in Kentucky, situated 
on the bank of Ohio, where I resided for several years, to 
proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked to all my draw- 
ings before my departure, placed them carefully in a wooden 
box, and gave them in charge to a relative, with injunctions 
to see that no injury should happen to them. My absence 
was of several months ; and when I returned, after having 
enjoyed the pleasure of home for a few days, I inquired after 
my box, and what I was pleased to call my treasure. The 
box was produced, and opened ; but, reader, feel for me — a 
pair of Norway rats had taken possession of the whole, and 
had reared a young family amongst the gnawed bits of paper, 
which, but a few months before, represented nearly a thousand 
inhabitants of the air ! The burning heat which instantly rushed 
through my brain was too great to be endured, without affect- 
ing the whole of my nervous system. I slept not for several 
nights, and the days passed like days of oblivion — until the 
animal powers being recalled into action, through the strength 
of my constitution, I took up my gun, my note book, and my 
pencils, and went forth to the woods as gaily as if nothing had 
happened. I felt pleased that I might now make much better 
drawings than before, and, ere a period not exceeding three 
years had elapsed, I had my portfolio filled again." 

" I then sailed for the Old World, and as I approached 
the coast of England, and for the first time beheld her fertile 
shores, the dispondency of my spirits became very great. I 
knew no individual in the country ; and, although I was the 
bearer of letters from American friends, and statesmen of 
great eminence, my situation appeared precarious in the • ex- 



6(j ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

treme. I imagined that every individual wliom I was about 
to meet, might be possessed of talents superior to those of 
any on our side of the Atlantic ! Indeed, as I for the first time 
walked on the streets of Liverpool, my heart nearly failed me, 
for not a glance of sympathy did I meet in my wanderings for 
two days. To the woods I could not betake myself, for there 
were none near. 

" But how soon did all around me assume a different aspect ! 
How fresh is the recollection of the change ! The very first 
letter which I tendered procured me a world of friends. The 
Ptathbones, the Eoscoes, the Trailes, the Chorleys, the 
Mellies, and others, took me by the hand ; and so kind and 
beneficent, nay, so generously kind have they all been towards 
me, that I, can never cancel the obligation. My drawings 
were publicly exhibited and publicly praised. Joy swelled 
my heart. The first difficulty was surmounted. Honors, 
which, on application being made through my friends, Phila- 
delphia had refused, Liverpool freely accorded. 

" I left that emporium of commerce with many a passport; 
bent upon visiting fair Edina, for I longed to see the men and 
the scenes immortalized by the fervid strains of Burns, and 
the glowing eloquence of Scott and Wilson. I arrived at 
Manchester ; and here too, the Greggs, the Lloyds, the 
Sergeants, the Holmes, the Blackwalls, the Bentleys, and 
many others, rendered my visit as pleasing as it was profit- 
able to me." 

Such is the recital of Audubon himself; his ardent love of 
science, this heroic passion, have borne fruit which should 
immortalize his name. In the halls of the Edinburgh Royal 
Society, we have admired the exhibition of his colored 
designs executed in water colors. A magical power trans- 
ported us to the forests so long inhabited by the man of 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 67 

genius. Wise and ignorant were equally struck by a spec- 
tacle which we will not try to describe. 

Imagine an American landscape, trees, flowers, turf, the 
very tints of sky and water animated by a real, peculiar, trans- 
atlantic life. On these boughs, amid this foliage, on these 
shores, copied with such severe fidelity, live the airial races 
of the New World, large as life, with their particular atti- 
tudes, their individuality, their singularity. These plumages 
gleam with nature's own coloring. You see the birds, ia 
motion and repose, in their plays and wars, their angers and 
their loves, singing, brooding, sleeping, awake, cleaving the 
air, skimming the waters, tearing one another in their com- 
bats. It is a real and palpable vision of the New World, 
with its atmosphere, its glorious vegetation, and its tribes not 
yet submiss to a human yoke. The sun gleams through the 
glades ; the swan floats suspended between a cloudless heaven 
and a sparkling water ; strange and majestic figures mark the 
earth bright with mica. And this realization of an entire 
hemisphere ; this picture of a nature so mighty, has come 
from the pencil of one obscure, unknown man ; unheard of 
triumph of patient genius, over innumerable obstacles. 

The lovers of art encouraged Audubon to have his great 
work engraved and published. It was temerity to do so. 
There were four hundred plates of the largest size, and two 
thousand colored figures. There was but one country in the 
world, where the author could find the necessary patronage — 
Great Britain. At last, thanks to the encouragements which 
he received, the movement was achieved. 

It is the kingdom of birds, an unknown world, which lives 
in these beautiful engravings. The text is worthy of the 
plates ; it is not a cold analysis nor a pompous description, 
but the romance of this winged people which the author has 
studied in their retreats. He communicates the love of birds 



G^. ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

to the reader. Audubon mingles his own history, with that 
of his favorites ; he associates you in his adventures ; he gives 
gratefully the names of all who helped him in his work. You 
cross with him those vast American landscapes. You follow 
the course of those gigantic streams, whose immense floods 
gather on their way the brooks of the same continent, and 
roll the mingled waters to the main. Sometimes Audubon 
travels alone ; sometimes his wife and children accompany 
him. Let us hear him ; or rather, travel with him. 

" When my wife, my eldest son (then an infant) ; and 
myself were returning from Pennsylvania to Kentucky, we 
found it expedient, the waters being unusually low, to provide 
ourselves with a skijf, to enable us to proceed to our abode at 
Henderson. I purchased a large, commodious, and light boat 
of that denomination. We procured a mattress, and our 
friends furnished us with ready prepared viands. We had 
two stout negro rowers, and in this trim we left the village of 
Shippingport in expectation of reaching the place of our des- 
tination in a very few days. It was in the month of October. 
The autumnal tints already decorated the shores of that queen 
of rivers, the Ohio. Every tree was hung with long and 
flowing festoons of different species of vines, many loaded with 
clustered fruits of varied brilliancy, their rich bronzed carmine 
mingling beautifully with the yellow foliage, which now pre- 
dominated over the yet green leaves, reflecting more lively 
tints from the clear stream than ever landscape painter por- 
trayed or poet imagined. The days were yet warm. The 
sun had assumed the rich and glowing hue which at that 
season produces the singular phenomenon called there the 
' Indian Summer.' The moon had rather passed the meridian 
of her grandeur. We glided down the river, meeting no other 
ripple of the water than that formed by the propulsion of our 
boat. Leisurely wc moved along, gazing all day on the gran- 



LITERATUBE AND ELOQUENCE. 69 

deur and beauty of the wild scenery around us. Now and 
then, a large cat-fish rose to the surface of the water in pur- 
suit of a shoal of fry, which starting simultaneously from the 
liquid element, like so many silvery arrows, produced a 
shower of light, while the pursuer with open jaws seized the 
stragglers, and, with a splash of his tail, disappeared from our 
view. Other fishes we heard uttering beneath our bark a 
rumbling noise, the strange sounds of which we discovered to 
proceed from the white perch, for on casting our net from 
the bow we caught several of that species when the noise 
ceased for a time. Nature in her varied arrangements, seems 
to have felt a partiality towards this portion of our country. 
As the traveller ascends or descends the Ohio, he cannot help 
remarking that alternately, nearly the whole length of the 
river, the margin, on one side, is bounded by lofty hills and a 
rolling surface, while on the other, extensive plains of the 
richest alluvial land are seen as far as the eye can command 
view. Islands of varied size and form rise here and there 
from the bosom of the water, and the winding course of the 
stream frequently brings you to places where the idea of being 
on a river of great length changes to that of floating on a lake 
of moderate extent. Some of these islands are of considera- 
ble size and value ; while others, small and insignificant, seem 
as if intended for contrast, and as serving to enhance the 
general interest of the scenery. These little islands are fre- 
quently overflowed during great freshets or floods, and receive 
at their heads prodigious heaps of drifted timber. We fore- 
saw with great concern the alterations that cultivation would 
soon produce along those delightful banks, 

" As night came, sinking in darkness the broader portions 
of the river, our minds became afiected by strong emotions, 
and wandered far beyond the present moments. The tinkling 
of bells told us that the cattle which bore them were gently 



To ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

roving from valley to valley in search of food, or returning 
to their distant homes. The hooting of the great owl, or the 
muffed noise of its wings as it sailed smoothly over the stream 
were matters of interest to us ; so was the sound of the boat- 
man's horn, as it came winding more and more softly from 
afar. When daylight returned, many songsters burst forth 
with echoing notes, more and more mellow to the listening 
ear. Here and there the lonely cabin of a squatter struck 
the eye, giving note of commencing civilization. The cross- 
ing of the stream by a deer foretold how soon the hills would 
be covered with snow. 

" Many sluggish flat boats we overtook and passed ; some 
laden with produce from the different head waters of the 
small rivers that pour their tributary streams into the Ohio ; 
others, of less dimensions, crowded with emigrants from 
distant parts in search of a new home. Purer pleasures I 
never felt ; nor have you, reader, I ween, unless indeed you 
have felt the like, and in such company. 

" The margins of the shores and of the river were at this 
season amply supplied with game. A wild turkey, a grouse, 
or a blue- winged teal, could be procured in a few moments ; 
and we fared well, for whenever we pleased, we landed, struck 
up a fire, and provided as we were with the necessary utensils, 
procured a good repast. Several of these happy days passed 
and we neared our home, when one evening, not fir from 
Pigeon Creek, (a small stream which runs into the Ohio 
from the State of Indiana), a loud and strange noise was 
heard, so like the yells of Indian warfare, that we pulled at 
our oars and made for the opposite side as fast and as quietly 
possible. The sounds increased, we imagined we heard cries 
of ' murder ;' and we knew that some depredations had lately 
been committed in the country by dissatisfied parties of 
the aborigines. Wc felt for a while extremely uncomfortable. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. Yl 

Ere long, however, our minds became more calmed, and we 
plainly discovered that the singular uproar was produced by 
an enthusiastic, set of Methodists who had wandered thus far 
out of the common way, for the purpose of holding one of 
their annual camp-meetings, under the shade of a beach 
forest. Without meeting with any other interruptions, we 
reached Henderson, distant from shipping-port by water, 
about two hundred miles. 

" When I think of these times, and call back to my mind 
the grandeur and beauty of those almost uninhabited shores ; 
when I picture to myself the dense and lofty summits of the 
forest that everywhere spread along the hills, and overhung 
the margins of the stream, unmolested by the axe of the 
settler ; when I know how dearly purchased the safe naviga- 
tion of that river has been, by the blood of many worthy 
Virginians ; when I see that no longer any aborigines are to 
be found there, and that the vast herds of elks, deer, and 
buffaloes which once pastured on these hills and in these valleys, 
making for themselves great roads to the several salt springs, 
have ceased to exist ; when I reflect that all this grand portion 
of our Union, instead of being in a state of nature, is now 
more or less covered with villages, farms, and towns, where 
the din of hammers and machinery is constantly heard ; that 
the woods are fast disappearing under the axe by day and the 
fire by night ; that hundreds of steam-boats are gliding to and 
fro, over the whole length of the majestic river, forcing com- 
mei:ce to take root and to prosper at every spot ; when I see 
the surplus population of Europe coming to assist in the 
destruction of the forest, and transplanting civilization into 
its darkest recesses ; when I remember that these extraor- 
dinary changes have all taken place in the short period of 
twenty years, I pause, wonder, and although I know all to be 
a fact, can scarcely believe its reality. Whether these 



72 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

changes arc for the better or for the worse, I shall not 
pretend to say ; but in whatever way my conclusions may 
incline, I feel with regret, that there are on record no satis- 
factory accounts of the state of that portion of the country, 
from the time when our people first settled in it. This has 
not been because no one in America is able to accomplish 
such an undertaking. Our Irvings and our Coopers have 
proved themselves fully competent for the task. It has more 
probably been because the changes have succeeded each other 
with such rapidity as almost to rival the movements of their 
pen. However, it is not too late yet ; and I sincerely hope 
that either or both of them will ere long furnish the genera- 
tions to come with those delightful descriptions which they 
are so well qualified to give, of the original state of a country 
that has been so rapidly forced to change her form and 
attire under the influence of increasing population. Yes, I 
hope to read, ere I close my earthly career, accounts from 
those delightful writers of the progress of civilization in our 
Western country. They will speak of the Clarks, the 
Croghans, the Boons, and many other men of great and 
daring enterprise ; they will analyse, as it were, into each 
component part, the country as it once existed, and will 
render the picture, as it ought to be, immortal." 

" Various portions of our country have at different periods 
suffered severely from the influence of violent storms of wind, 
some of which have been known to traverse nearly the whole 
extent of the United States, and to leave such deep impres- 
sions in their wake as will not easily be forgotten. 

" Having witnessed one of these awful phenomena, in all 
its grandeur, I shall attempt to describe it for your sake, kind 
reader, and for your sake only, the recollection of that aston- 
ishing revolution of the ethereal element even now bringing 
with it so disagreeable a sensation, that I feel as if about to 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 73 

be afflicted by a sudden stoppage of the circulation of my 
blood." 

We will not insult the reader by any comments upon these 
beautiful pages ; thoy are animated by a true sentiment ; this 
pure and vivid coloring, this simple and ardent tone ; this 
inimitable conviction show the happiest genius. Audubon 
writes as he sees, under tho dictates of his personal impres- 
sions. The fidelity of description is not less remarkable, in 
this description of a hurricane in North America. 

" I had left the village of Shawaney, situated on the banks 
of the Ohio, on ray return from Henderson, which is also 
situated on the banks of the same beautiful stream. The 
weather was pleasant, and I thought not warmer than usual 
at that season. My horse was jogging quietly along, and my 
thoughts were, for once at least in the course of my life, 
entirely engaged in commercial speculations. I had forded 
Highland Creek, and was on the eve of entering a tract of 
bottom land, or valley, that lay between it and Canoe Creek, 
when on a sudden, I remarked a great difference in the aspect 
of the heavens. A hazy thickness had overspread the country, 
and I for some time expected an earthquake, but my horse 
exhibited no propensity to stop and prepare for such an 
occurrence. I had nearly arrived at the verge of the valley, 
when I thought fit to stop near a brook, and dismounted to 
quench the thirst which had come upon me. I was leaning 
on my knees, with my lips about to touch the water, when, 
from my proximity to the earth, I heard a distant murmuring 
sound of an extraordinary nature. I drank, however, and as 
I rose on my feet, looked toward the south-west, where I 
observed a yellowish, oval spot, the appearance of which was 
quite new to me. Little time was left me for consideration, 
as the next moment a smart breeze began to agitate the 
taller trees. It increased to an unexpected height, and 



74 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

already the smaller branches and twigs were seen falling in a 
slanting direction towards the ground. Two minutes had 
scarcely elapsed when the whole forest before me was in 
fearful motion. Here and there, where one tree pressed 
against another, a creaking noise was produced, similar to 
that occasioned by the violent gusts which sometimes sweep 
over the country. Turning instinctively toward the direction 
from which the wind blew, I saw, to my great astonishment, 
that the noblest trees of the forest bent their lofty heads for 
a while, and unable to stand against the blast, were falling 
into pieces. First the branches were broken off with a 
crackling noise ; then went the upper part of the massy trunks ; 
and in many places whole trees of gigantic size were falling 
entire to the ground. So rapid was the progress of the 
storm, that before I could think of taking measures to insure 
my safety, the hurricane was passing opposite the place where 
I stood. Never can I forget the scene which at that moment 
presented itself. The tops of the trees were seen moving in 
the strangest manner, in the central current of the tempest, 
which carried along with it a mingled mass of twigs and 
foliage, that completely obscured the view. Some of the 
largest trees were seen bending and writhing under the gale ;• 
others suddenly snapped across ; and many, after a momen- 
tary resistance, fell uprooted to the earth. The mass of 
branches, twigs, foliage, and dust that moved through the 
air, was whirled onwards like a cloud of feathers, and on 
passing, disclosed a wide space filled with fallen trees, naked 
stumps, and heaps of shapeless ruins which marked the path 
of the tempest. This space was about a fourth of a mile in 
breadth, and to my imagination, resembled the dried up bed 
of the Mississippi, with its thousands of planters and sawyers, 
strewed in the sand, and inclined in various degrees. The 
horrible noise resembled that of the great cataracts of 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 75 

Niagara, and as it howled along in the track of the desolating 
tempest, produced a feeling in iny mind which it were 
Impossible to describe. 

" The principal force of the hurricane was now over, although 
millions of twigs and small branches, tnat had been brought 
from a great distance, were seen following the blast, as if 
drawn onwards by some mysterious power. They even 
floated in the air for some hours after, as if supported by the 
thick mass of dust that rose high above the ground. The 
sky had now a greenish, lurid hue, and an extremely disagree- 
able sulphureous odor was diiFused in the atmosphere. J 
waited in amazement, having sustained no material injury, 
until nature at length resumed her wonted aspect. For some 
moments, I felt undetermined whether I should return to 
Morgantown, or attempt to force my way through the wrecks 
of the tempest. My business, however, being of an urgent 
nature, I ventured into the path of the storm, and after 
encountering innumerable difficulties, succeeded in crossing 
it. I was obliged to lead my horse by the bridle, to enable 
him to leap over the fallen trees, whilst I scrambled over or 
under them in the best way I could, at times so hemmed in 
by the broken tops and tangled branches, as almost to become 
desperate. On arriving at my house, I gave an account of 
what I had seen, when, to my surprise, I was told that there 
had been very little wind in the neighborhood, although in 
the streets and gardens, many branches and twigs had fallen 
in a manner which excited great surprise. 

" Many wondrous accounts of the devastating effects of 
this hurricane were circulated in the country, after its occur- 
rence. Some log houses, we were told, had been overturned, 
and their inmates destroyed. One person informed me that 
a wire-sifter had been conveyed by the gust to a distance of 

tr»an\r i-nilna A nnfliAv linrJ fminrl a fnva ]nr\<r,^A in flip ^nrlr nf 



76 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

a large, half-broken tree. But as 1 am disposed to relate only 
what I have myself seen, I shall not lead you into the region 
of romance, but shall content myself with saying that much 
damage was done by this awful visitation. The valley is yet 
a desolate place, overgrown with briars and bushes, thickly 
entangled amidst the tops and trunks of the fallen trees, and 
is the resort of ravenous animals, to which they betake them- 
selves when pursued by man, or after they have committed 
their depredations on the farms of the surrounding dis- 
trict. 1 have crossed the path of the storm, at a distance 
of a hundred miles from the spot where I witnessed its 
fury, and, again, four hundred miles farther off, in the 
State of Ohio. Lastly, I observed traces of its ravages on 
the summits of the mountains connected with the Grreat 
Pine Forest of Pennsylvania, three hundred miles beyond 
the place last mentioned. In all these different parts, it 
appeared to me not to have exceeded a quarter of a mile in 
breadth." 

During our Naturalist's long excursions, other dangers 
menace him, and the following recital would not be out of 
place in one of Cooper's novels : 

" On my return from the Upper Mississippi, I found my- 
self obliged to cross one of the wide prairies, which in that 
portion of the United States, vary the appearance of the 
country. 

" The weather was fine, all around me was as fresh and 
blooming as if it had just issued from the bosom of nature. 
My knapsack, my gun, and my dog, were all I had for bag- 
gage and company. But, although well moccasined, I moved 
fclowly along, attracted by the brilliancy of the flowers, and 
the gambols of the fawns around their dams, to all appearance 
as thoughtless of danger as I felt myself. 

" My march was of long duration ; I saw the sun sinking 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 11 

bcncatli the horizon long before I could perceive any appear- 
ance of woodland, and nothing in the shape of man had I met 
with that day. The track which I followed was only an old 
Indian trace, and as darkness overshadowed the prairie, I felt 
some desire to reach at least a copse, in which I might lie 
down to rest. The night-hawks were skimming over and 
around me, attracted by the buzzing wings of the beetles 
which form their food, and the distant howling of wolves, gave 
me some hope that I should soon arrive at the skirts of some 
woodland. 

" I did so, and almost at the same instant a fire-light at- 
tracting my eye, I moved towards it, full of confidence that it 
proceeded from the camp of some wandering Indians. I was 
mistaken ; — I discovered by its glare that it was from the 
hearth of a small log cabin, and that a tall figure passed and 
repassed between it and me, as if busily engaged in household 
arrangements. 

^' I reached the spot, and presenting myself at the door, 
asked the tall figure, which proved to be a woman, if I might 
take shelter under her roof for the night. Her voice was 
gruff", and her attire negligently thrown about her. She an- 
swered in the affirmative. I walked in, took a wooden stool, 
and quietly seated myself by the fire. The next object that 
attracted my notice was a finely-formed young Indian, resting 
his head between his hands, with his elbows on his knees. A 
long bow rested against the log wall near him, while a quan- 
tity of arrows and two or three raccoon skins lay at his feet. 
He moved not ; he apparently breathed not. Accustomed to 
the habits of the Indians, and knowing that they pay little 
attention to the approval of civilized strangers, (a circum- 
stance which in some countries is considered as evincincf the 
apathy of their character, J I addressed him in French, a lan- 
guage not unfrequently partially known to the people in that 



78 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

neighborliood. He raised his head, pointed to one of his eyes 
with his finger, and gave me a significant glance with the 
other. His face was covered with blood. The fact was, that 
an hour before this, as he was in the act of discharging an 
arrow at a raccoon in the top of a tree, the arrow had split 
upon the cord, and sprung back with such violence into his 
right eye as to destroy it for ever. 

" Feeling hungry, I inquired what sort of fare I might ex- 
pect. Such a thing as a bed was not to be seen, but many 
large untanned bear and buffalo hides lay piled in a corner. 
I drew a fine time -piece from my breast, and told the woman 
that it was late, and that I was fatigued. She had espied my 
watch, the richness of which seemed to operate upon her feel- 
ings with electric quickness. She told me that there was 
plenty of venison and jerked buffalo meat, and that on remov- 
ing the ashes, 1 should find a cake. But my watch had 
struck her fancy, and her curiosity had to be gratified by an 
immediate sight of it. I took off the gold chain that secured 
it, from around my neck, and presented it to her. She was 
all ecstasy, spoke of its beauty, asked me its value, and put 
the chain around her brawny neck, saying how happy the pos- 
session of such a watch would make her. Thoughtless, and, 
as I fancied myself, in so retired a spot, secure, I paid little 
attention to her talk or her movements. I helped my dog 
to a good supper of venison, and was not long in satisfying 
the demands of my own appetite. 

" The Indian rose from his seat, as if in extreme suffering. 
He passed and repassed me several times, and once pinched 
me on the side so violently, that the pain nearly brought forth 
an exclamation of anger. I looked at him. His eye met 
mine ; but his look was so forbidding, that it struck a chill 
into the more nervous part of my system. He again seated 
himself, drew his butcher-knife from its greasy scabbard, ex- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 79 

amined its edge, as I would do that of a razor suspected dull, 
replaced it, and again taking his tomahawk from his back, 
filled the pipe of it with tobacco, and sent mc expressive 
glances whenever our hostess chanced to have her back 
toward us. 

*' Never until that moment had my senses been awakened 
to the danger which I now suspected to be about me. I re- 
turned glance for glance to my companion, and rested well 
assured that, whatever enemies I might have, he was not of 
their number. 

" I asked the woman for my watch, wound it up, and under 
pretence of wishing to see how the weather might probably be 
on the morrow, took up my gun, and walked out of the cabin. 
I slipped a ball into each barrel, scraped the edges of my flints, 
renewed the primings, and returning to the hut, gave a favor- 
able account of my observations. I took a few bear-skins, 
made a pallet of them, and calling my faithful dog to my side, 
lay down, with my gun close to my. body, and in a few minutes 
was, to all appearance, fast asleep. 

" A short time had elapsed when some voices were heard, 
and from the corner of my eyes I saw two athlectic youths 
making their entrance, bearing a dead stag on a pole. They 
disposed of their burden, and asking for whiskey, helped them- 
selves freely to it. Observing me and the wounded Indian, 
they asked who I was, and why the devil that rascal (meaning 
the Indian, who, they knew understood not a word of English; 
was in the house. The mother, for so she proved to be, bade 
them speak less loudly, made mention of my watch, and took 
them to a corner, where a conversation took place, the pur- 
port of which it required little shrewdness in me to guess. I 
tapped my dog gently. He moved his tail, and with inde- 
scribable pleasure I saw his fine eyes alternately fixed on me 
and raised towards the trio in the corner. I felt that he per- 



80 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

ceived danger in my situation. The Indian exchanged, a last 
glance with me. 

*' The lads had eaten and drunk themselves into such a con- 
dition, that I already looked upon them as horn de comhat ; and 
the fre(pent visits of the whiskey bottle to the ugly mouth of 
their dam I hoped would soon reduce her to a like state. 
Judge of my astonishment, reader, when I saw this incarnate 
fiend take a large carving-knife and go to the grindstone to 
whet its edge. I saw her pour the water on the turning 
machine, and watched her working away with the dangerous 
instrument, until the cold sweat covered every part of my 
body, in despite of my determination to defend -myself to the 
last. Her task finished, she walked to her reeling sons, and 

said, ' There, that'll soon settle him ! Boys, kill you 

and then for the watch !' 

" I turned, cocked my gun-lock silently, touched my faith- 
ful companion, and lay ready to start up and shoot the first 
who might attempt my life. The moment was fast approach- 
ing, and that night might have been my last in this world, 
had not Providence made preparations for my rescue. All 
was ready. 

" The infernal hag was advancing slowly, probably con- 
templating the best way of despatching me, whilst her sous 
should be engaged with the Indian. T was several times on 
the eve of rising, and shooting her on the spot ; — but she was 
not to be punished thus. The door was suddenly opened, 
and there entered two stout travellers, each with a long rifle 
on his shoulder. I bounced up on my feet ; and making them 
most heartily welcome, told them how well it was for me that 
they should have arrived at that moment. 

" The tale was told in a minute. The drunken sons were 
secured, and the woman, in despite of her defence and vocif- 
erations, shared the same fate. The Indian fairly danced 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. Oi 

with joy, and gave us to understand that, as he could not 
sleep for pain, he would watch over us. You may suppose we 
slept much less than we talked. The two strangers gave me 
an account of their once having been themselves in a some- 
what similar situation. Day came, fair and rosy, and with it 
the punishment of our captives. 

" They were now quite sobered. Their feet were unbound, 
but their arms were still securely tied. -We marched them 
into the woods off the road, and having used them as regula- 
tors were wont to use such delinquents, we set fire to the 
cabin, gave all the skins and implements to the young Indian 
warrior, and proceeded, well pleased, towards the^settlemcnts. 

" During upwards of twenty-five years, when my wander- 
ings extended to all parts of our country, this was the only 
time at which my life was in danger from my fellow creatures. 
Indeed, so little risk do travellers run in the United States, 
that no one born there ever dreams of any to be encountered 
on the road ; and I can only account for this occurrence by 
supposing that the inhabitants of the cabin were not Ameri- 
cans. 

" Will you believe, good-natured reader, that not many 
miles from the place where this adventure happened, and 
where fifteen years ago, no habitation belonging to civilized 
man was expected, and very few ever seen, large roads are 
now laid out, cultivation has converted the woods into fertile 
fields, taverns have been erected, and much of what we Ameri- 
cans call comfort is to be met with. So fast does improve- 
ment proceed in our abundant and free country." 

Thus does this forest philosopher, this naturalist commis- 
sioned by God to observe and to paint His works, involun- 
tarily enlarging his circle, copy and cause to live the manners, 
landscapes and scenes of the continent. He promised us 
birds only ; but he gives a panorama of North America ; he 



82 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

has perceived that these plains, trees and rivers, made as a 
home for the feathered, was the natural frame of his pictures. 
As to the history of the birds themselves, of their private life, 
of their loves, quarrels and customs, it is charming in its de- 
tails ; take for instance the biography of the mocking-bird, 
peculiar to America. 

" It is where the great magnolia shoots up its majestic 
trunk, crowned with evergreen leaves, and decorated with a 
thousand beautiful flowers, that perfume the air around ; 
where the forests and fields are adorned with blossoms of 
every hue ; where the golden orange ornaments the gardens 
•and groves ; where bignonias of various kinds interlace their 
climbing stems around the white-flowered stuartia, and mount- 
ing still higher, cover the summits of the lofty trees around, 
accompanied with innumerable vines, that here and there fes- 
toon the dense foliage of the magnificent woods, lending to 
the vernal breeze a slight portion of the perfume of their 
clustered flowers ; where a genial warmth seldom forsakes the 
atmosphere ; where berries and fruits of all descriptions are 
met with at every step ; — in a word, kind reader, it is where 
Nature seems to have paused, as she passed over the earth, 
and opening her stores, to have strewed with unsparing hand 
the diversified seeds from which have sprung all the beautiful 
and splendid forms which I should in vain attempt to describe, 
that .the Mocking Bird should have fixed its abode ; there only 
that its wondrous song should be heard. 

" But where is that favored land ? It is in that great con- 
tinent to whose distant shores Europe has sent forth her ad- 
venturous sons, to wrest for themselves a habitation from the 
wild inhabitants of the forest, and to convert the neglected 
soil into fields of exuberant fertility. It is, reader, in Louisi- 
ana that these bounties of nature are in the greatest perfec- 
tion. It is here that you should listen to the love song of 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 83 

the Mocking Bird, as I at this moment do. See how he flies 
round his mate, with motions as light as those of a butterfly ! 
His tail is widely expanded, he mounts in the air to a small 
distance, describes a circle, and again alighting, approaches 
his beloved one, his eyes gleaming with delight, for she has 
already promised to be his and his only. His beautiful wings 
are gently raised, he bows to his love, and again bouncing up- 
wards, opens his bill, and pours forth his melody, full of exult- 
ation at the conquest which he has made. 

^' They are not the soft sounds of the flute or of the hautboy 
that I hear, but the sweeter notes of nature's own music. 
The mellowness of the song, the varied modulations and gra- 
dations, the extent of its compass, the great brilliancy of exe- 
cution, are unrivalled. There is probably no bird in the 
world that possesses all the musical qualifications of this king 
of song, who has derived all from nature's self. Yes, reader, 
all. 

" No sooner has he again alighted, and the conjugal con- 
tract has been sealed, than, as if his breast was about to be 
rent with delight, he again pours forth his notes with more 
softness and richness than before. He now soars higher, 
glancing around with a vigilant eye, to assure himself that 
none has witnessed his bliss. "When these love scenes, visi- 
ble only to the ardent lover of nature, are over, he dances 
through the air, full of animation and delight, and, as if to 
convince his lovely mate that to enrich her hopes he has 
much more love in store, he that moment begins anew, and 
imitates all the notes which nature has imparted to the other 
songsters of the grove. 

" For a while, each long day and pleasant night are thus 
spent ; but at a peculiar note of the female he ceases his song, 
and attends to her wishes. A nest is to be prepared, and the 
choice of a place in which to lay it is to become a matter of 



84 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

mutual consideration. The orange, the fig, the pear-tree of 
the gardens are inspected ; the thick briar patches are also 
visited. They appear all so well suited for the purpose in 
view, and so well does the bird know that man is not his most 
dangerous enemy, that instead of retiring from him, they at 
length fix their abode in his vicinity, perhaps in the nearest 
tree to his window. Dried twigs, leaves, grasses, cotton, 
flax, and other substances, are picked up, carried to a forked 
branch, and there arranged. The female has laid an egg^ 
and the male redoubles his caresses. Five eggs are deposited 
in due time, when the male having little more to do than to 
sing his mate to repose, attunes his pipe anew. Every now 
and then he spies an insect on the ground, the taste of which 
he is sure will please his beloved one. He drops upon it, 
takes it in his bill, beats it against the earth, and flies to the 
nest to feed and receive the warm thanks of his devoted 
female. When a fortnight has elapsed, the young brood 
demand all their care and attention. No cat, no vile snake, 
no dreaded hawk, is likely to visit their habitation. Indeed, 
the inmates of the next house have by this time become quite 
attached to the lovely pair of mocking birds, and take pleasure 
in contributing to their safety. The dew-berries from the 
fields and many kinds of fj-uit from the gardens, mixed with 
insects, supply the young as well as the parents with food. 
The brood is soon seen emerging from the nest, and in another 
fortnight, being now able to fly with vigor, and to provide 
for themselves, they leave the parent birds, as many other 
species do." 

We have many books upon Natural History wherein gene- 
ralities and vague descriptions abound ; here you have the 
finest touches of the pencil and the most delicate ; there is an 
extreme precision in the details ; a complete journal of the 
life of birds. Audubon destroys more than one popular pre- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 85 

judice. For instance, the opinions or rather the lugubrious 
metaphors which insult the owl as solemn and stupid. Men 
place him on tombs ; chase him with stones when he appears 
in the day time ; one says ordinarily, " sad as an owl, gloomy 
as an owl." Audubon teaches us that among the numerous 
kinds of owls, there is but one, the Black-beak, whose tem- 
perament and melancholy humors merit, not these reproaches 
and insults, but a charitable commiseration ; the poor animal 
is nearly blind, and has a hereditary spleen. As to his 
brethren, Shakspeare knew them well, when he called them, 
"merry birds." The Athenians esteemed them greatly; 
and Audubon carried one, in his pocket, from New York to 
Philadelphia — it was the pleasantest sort of buffoon. 

" Should you, kind reader, find it convenient or agreeable 
to visit the noble forests existing in the lower parts of the 
State of Louisiana, about the middle of October, when nature, 
on the eve of preparing for approaching night, permits useful 
dews to fall and rest on every plant, with the view of reviving 
its leaves, its fruits, or its lingering blossoms, ere the return 
of morn ; when every night-insect rises on buzzing wings from 
the ground, and the fire-fly, amidst thousands of other species, 
appears as if purposely to guide their motions through the 
sombre atmosphere ; at the moment when numerous reptiles 
and quadrupeds commence their nocturnal prowlings, and the 
fair moon, empress of the night, rises peacefully on the dis- 
tant horizon, shooting her silvery rays over the heavens and 
the earth, and, like a watchful guardian, moving slowly, and 
majestically along ; when the husbandmen, just returned to 
his home, after the labors of the day, is receiving the cheering 
gratulations of his family, and the wholesome repast is about 
to be spread out for master and servants alike ; it is at this 
moment, kind reader, that were you, as I have said, to visit 



86 ORIGIlf AND PROGRESS OF 

that happy country, your ear would suddenly be struck by 
the discordant screams of the Barred Owl. 

Its whah^ whahy ivhah^ whah-aa is uttered loudly, and in so 
strange and ludicrous a manner, that I should not be sur- 
prised were you, kind reader, when you and I meet, to com- 
pare these sounds to the affected bursts of laughter which 
you may have heard from some of the fashionable members 
of our own species. 

" How often, when snugly settled under the boughs of my 
temporary encampment, and preparing to roast a venison 
steak, or the body of a squirrel, on a wooden spit, have I been 
saluted with the exalted bursts of this mighty disturber of the 
peace, that had it not been for him, would have prevailed 
around me, as well as in my lonely retreat. How often have 
I seen this nocturnal marauder alight within a few yards of 
me, exposing his whole body to the glare of my fire, and eye 
me in such a curious manner that, had it been reasonable to 
do so, I would gladly have invited him to walk in and join 
me in my repast, that I might have enjoyed the pleasure of 
forming a better acquaintance with him. The liveliness of 
his motions, joined to their oddness, have often made me 
think that his society would be at least as agreeable as that 
of many of the buffoons we meet with in the world. But as 
such opportunities of forming acquaintance have not existed, 
be content, kind reader, with the imperfect information which 
I can give you of the habits of this Sancho Panza of our 
woods." 

The following picture of the White-headed Eagle is as beau- 
tiful colored and more exact than Buffon. 

" The figure of this noble bird is well known throughout 
the civilized world, emblazoned as it is on our national 
standard, which waves in the breeze of every clime, bearing 
to distant lands the remembrance of a great people living in 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 87 

a state of peaceful freedom. May that peaceful freedom last 
forever ! 

" The great strength, daring, and cool courage of the 
white-headed eagle, joined to his unequalled power of flight, 
render him highly conspicuous among his brethren. To 
these qualities did he' add a generous disposition towards 
others, he might be looked up to as a model of nobility. The 
ferocious, overbearing, and tyrannical temper which is ever 
and anon displaying itself in his actions, is, nevertheless, best 
adapted to his state, and was wisely given him by the Creator 
to enable him to perform the office assigned to him. 

*' To give you, kind reader, some idea of the nature of this 
bird, permit me to place you on the Mississippi, on which you 
may float gently along, while approaching winter brings 
millions of water-fowl on whistling wings from the countries 
of the north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for 
a season. The eagle is seen perched, in an erect attitude, 
on the highest summit of the tallest tree by the margin of the 
broad stream. His glistening, but stern eye, looks over the 
vast expanse. He listens attentively to every sound that 
comes to his quick ear from afar, glancing now and then on 
the earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the fawn may 
pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite side, and 
should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to con- 
tinue patient. At this well-known call, the male partly opens 
his broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards, and 
answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a maniac. 
The next moment, he resumes his erect attitude, and again 
all around is silent. Ducks of many species, the teal, the 
wigeon, the mallard, and others, are seen passing with great 
rapidity, and following the course of the current ; but the 
eagle heeds them not ; they are at that time beneath his 
attention. The next moment, however, the wild trumpet-like 



88 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

sound of a yet distant but approaching swan is heard. A 
shriek from the female eagle comes across the stream, for, 
kind reader, she is fully as alert as her mate. The latter 
suddenly shakes the whole of his body, and with a few 
touches of his bill, aided by the action of his cuticular 
muscles, arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow- 
white bird is now in sight ; her long neck is stretched 
forward, her eye is on the watch, vigilant as that of her 
enemy ; her large wings seem with difficulty to support 
the weight of her body, although they flap incessantly. 
So irksome do her exertions seem, that her very legs are 
spread beneath her tail, to aid her in her flight. She 
approaches, however. The eagle has marked her for his 
prey. As the swan is passing the dreaded pair, starts from 
his perch, in full preparation for the chase, the male bird, 
with an awful scream, that to the swan's ear brings more 
terror than the report of the large duck-g«n. 

" Now is the moment to witness the display of the eagle's 
powers. He glides through the air like a falling star, and, 
like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timorous quarry, 
which now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various manoeu- 
vres, to elude the grasp of his cruel talons. It mounts, 
doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were it 
not prevented by the eagle, which, long possessed of the 
knowledge that by such a strategem the swan might escape 
him, forces it to remain in the air by attempting to strike it 
with his talons from beneath. The hope of escape is soon 
given up by the swan. It has already become much weaken- 
ed, and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and swift- 
ness of its antagonist. Its last gasp is about to escape, when 
the ferocious eagle strikes with his talons the under side of 
its wing, and with unresisted power forces the bird to fall in a 
slanting direction upon the nearest shore. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 89 

" It is then, reader, that you may see the cruel spirit of 
this dreaded enemy of the feathered race, whilst, exulting over 
his prey, he for the first time breathes at ease. He presses 
down his powerful feet, and drives his sharp claws deeper than 
ever into the heart of the dying swan. He shrieks with 
delight, as he feels the last convulsions of his prey, which 
has now sunk under his unceasing efforts to render death as 
painfully felt as it can possibly be. The female has watched 
every movement of her mate ; and if she did not assist him 
in capturing the swan, it was not from want of will, but 
merely that she felt full assurance that the power and courage 
of her lord were quite sufficient for the deed. She now sails 
to the spot where he eagerly awaits her, and when she has 
arrived, they together turn the breast of the luckless swan 
upwards, and gorge themselves with gore." 

Audubon has not neglected one detail in Ornithological 
annals ; he has treated with peculiar care the loves of birds. 
Some men have sung the loves of angels — a most apocryphal 
history ; others, chant the loves of poets, loves chimerical as 
those of Petrarch; symbolic as Dante's, or mad as Tasso's. 
We have had the conjugal mystery of flowers ; the loves of 
the minerals, and at last of the Triangles. Who would not 
prefer to these absurdities, the aerial loves which our natu- 
ralist has so happily depicted. 

The Carolinian Turtle-dove furnishes him with delicious 
pictures. 

" I have tried, kind reader, to give you a faithful represen- 
tation of two as gentle pairs of Turtles as ever cooed their 
loves in the green woods. 

" I have placed them on a branch of Stuartia, which you 
see ornamented with a profusion of white blossoms, emblematic 
of purity and chastity. 

" Look at the female, as she assiduously sits on her eggs, 



90 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

embosomed among the thick foliage, receiving food from the 
bill of her mate, and listening with delight to his assurances 
of devoted affection. Nothing is wanting to render the mo- 
ment as happy as could be desired by a couple on a similar 
occasion. 

" On the branch above, a love scene is just commencing. 
The female, still coy and undetermined, seems doubtful of the 
truth of her lover, and virgin-like resolves to put his sincerity 
to the test, by delaying the gratification of his wishes. She 
has reached the extremity of the branch, her wings and tail 
are already opening, and she will fly off to some more seques- 
tered spot, where, if her lover should follow her with the same 
assiduous devotion, they will doubtless, become as blessed as 
the pair beneath them. 

" The Dove announces the approach of Spring. Nay, she 
does more : — she forces us to forget the chilling blasts of 
winter, by the soft and melancholy sound of her cooing. Her 
heart is already so warmed and so swollen by the ardor of her 
passion, that it feels as ready to expand as the buds on the 
trees are under the genial influence of returning heat 

" The flight of this bird is extremely rapid, and of long 
duration. Whenever it starts from a tree or the ground, on 
being unexpectedly approached, its wings produce a whistling 
noise, heard at a considerable distance. On such occasions, 
it frequently makes several curious windings through the air, 
as if to prove its capability of efficient flight, it seldom rises 
far above the trees, and as seldom passes through dense woods 
or forests, but prefers following their margins, or flying about 
the fences and fields. Yet, during Spring, and particularly 
whilst the female is sitting on her eggs, the male rises as if 
about to ascend to a great height in the air, flapping his 
wings, but all of a sudden comes downwards again, describing 
a large circle, and sailing smoothly with wings and tail ex- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 91 

panded, until in this manner he alights on the tree where his 
mate is, or on one very near it." 

All birds are jealously inclined, save the golden-winged 
wood-pecker ; this brilliant gentleman is the most amiable and 
sparkling of birds. 

" It is generally agreeable to be in the company of individuals 
who are naturally animated and pleasant; for this reason, 
nothing can bo more gratifying than the society of wood- 
peckers in the forests. To prove this to you, kind reader, I 
shall give you a full account of the habits of the golden- 
winged woodpecker. 

" This species, which is usually called pique-lois jaune by 
the French settlers in Louisiana, and receives the name of 
high-holder, yucker, and flicker in other parts of the 
Union, being seldom or never graced with the epithet golden- 
wingcdy employed by naturalists, is one of the most lively of 
our birds, and is found over the whole of the United States. 

" iSo sooner has spring called them to the pleasant duty of 
making love, as it is called, than their voice, which, by the 
way, is not at all disagreeable to the ear of man, is heard 
from the tops of high, decayed trees, proclaiming with delight 
the opening of the welcome season. Their note at this period 
is merriment itself; as it imitates a prolonged and jovial 
laugh, heard at a considerable distance. Several males 
pursue a female, reach her, and to prove the force and truth 
of their love, bow their heads, spread their tail, and move 
sidewise, backwards and forwards, performing such antics, as 
might induce any one witnessing them, if not of a morose 
temper, to join his laugh to theirs. The female flies to 
another tree, where she is closely followed by one, two, or 
even half a dozen of these gay suitors, and where again the 
same ceremonies are gone through. No fightings occur, no 
jealousies seem to exist among these beaux, until a marked 



92 



ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 



preference is shown to some individual, when the rejected 
proceed in search of another female. In this manner, all the 
golden-winged woodpeckers are soon happily mated. Each 
pair immediately proceed to excavate a trunk of a tree, and 
finish a hole in it sufficient to contain themselves and their 
young. They both work with great industry and apparent 
pleasure. Should the male, for instance, be employed, the 
female is close to him, and congratulates him on the removal 
of every chip which his bill sends through the air. AVhile he 
rests, he appears to be speaking to her on the most tender 
subjects, and when fatigued, is at once assisted by her. In 
this manner, by the alternate exertions of each, the hole is 
dug and finished. They caress each other on the branches, 
climb about and around the tree with apparent delight, rattle 
with their bill against the tops of the dead branchcs^chase all 
their cousins, the red-heads, defy the Purple Grackles to enter 
their nest, feed plentifully on ants, beetles, and larvae, cack- 
ling at intervals, and ere two weeks have elapsed, the female 
lays either four or six eggs, the whiteness and transparency 
of which are doubtless the delight of their heart. If to raise 
a numerous progeny may contribute to happiness, these wood- 
peckers are in this respect happy enough, for they have two 
broods each season ; and as this might induce you to imagine 
wood-peckers extremely abundant in America, I may at once 
tell you that they are so." 

Such are the vivid, varied, naive colors with which the pen 
of the Naturalist, picturesque as his pencil, comments on and 
explains the admirable plates which compose his work. So 
too do we understand science. Thanks to the progress of 
civilization, she contents herself no longer with a dry nomen- 
clature ; and shuts herself up no longer amid the dust of old 
books. Adieu forever to the symbolic and artificial classifica- 
tions, which took the place of a study of the world ; and sub- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 93 

stituted for harmonious nature, an indescribable skeleton 
whose erudite labels were the toys of the learned. Kead 
those old monographs. What do you find there ? titles and 
words, figures and eternal classifications which address neither 
the soul nor the thought. Is, O God ! this thy living and 
eternal work, so full of animation ! What puerile invention 
in the place of a grand whole ! 

Here is an eagle on a peak ; you talk much about a class 
of birds, which, say you, have crooked beaks and feet armed 
with talons. What do I care for that ? Insipid cicerone, 
why do you come between me and the spectacle for which my 
curiosity is seeking the causes — I want to know why that 
eagle is there ; what interest has driven him from the plain 
where his prey abounds ; why he chooses for throne and 
place of rest, that sharp rock, that sterile mass of broken ice ; 
where is neither food nor shelter. I would know too, of what 
use are these arid, granite mountains bathed by the sea. If 
you tell me that the eagle, has need of a very lofty peak 
wherefrom to take his flight because of the spread and dis- 
position of his pinions; if you prove by the conformation of 
the globe, the necessity of mountains for the elaboration of 
metals, or as reservoirs for streams and rivers, then you will 
indeed instruct me — then I could understand something of the 
harmony of nature ; and could bow respectfully before that 
vast and thousand-chorded instrument formed by the eternal 
Author of all. 

Audubon has not only understood this harmony, in the 
midst of which he has lived, and whereof the music has 
re-echoed in the very deeps of his soul ; but he has repro- 
duced it in a style admirable for its simplicity, full of savor, 
of sap, of eloquence, and of sobriety. It is his glory ! 

More varied than Irving; more brilliant and pure than 
Fennimoro Cooper, with him ceases what we may call the 
first literary epoch of the United States. 



CHAPTEE II. 

OF POPULAR LITERATURE, AND OF THE LITERATURE 

SO CALLED, IN ENGLAND AND IN THE UNITED 

STATES. 



SECTION I. 

INFANCY AND FUTURE OF AMERICA AGE AND DESPAIR OF 

EUROPE now AiMERICA IS INCESSANTLY PEOPLED BY 

THE SUPERABUNDANT POPULATION OF EUROPE EMIGRA- 
TION AND COLONIZATION. 

There is no spectacle equal to that of which the thought 
has a presentiment now ; of which the certainty does not rest 
upon hypothesis, but on the inevitable development of facts — 
the spectacle of that America, that new Europe, which occu- 
pies so vast a space, from sea to sea, from Greenland to the 
Antilles. All civilization moves towards the displacement of 
human destinies, and every effort which we make to sustain 
and prolong our lives, turns to the profit of that great heir 
of our wealth. The colonization of Canada, of which only a 
small part is occupied by the wrecks of French families, the 
wilds and forests of which are peopled by the British govern- 
ment with their poor, exported from Ireland and Scotland, 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 95 

will aid the advance of this new civilization. In less than a 
century, all the colonists of those regions will speak English, 
and feel that there is a closer connection between them and 
the inhabitants of Philadelphia, Washington, and Boston, 
more affinities of neighborhood, commerce, necessity, and 
situation, that exists between them and the citizens of Lon- 
don. All will be confounded — even the Southern republics 
— in that cluster of which "Washington is the centre. The 
two colonizing nations will be represented there, Catholic 
Spain and Protestant England. France will have no repre- 
sentative if it be not in some unnoticed corner near Quebec 
or Montreal. 

This is the chastisement of that careless violence, of that 
unpausing impetuosity which has made us neglect our colo- 
nies. There was even a grave fault — say what you will — in 
our helping the insurgent American colonies against their 
metropolis. , The statesmen of that day thought only of 
revenging themselves upon their enemy and satisfying their 
anti-Britannic rancor. They saw not what is hardly visible 
even yet ; that the question was about Europe's own self; 
and that it related rather to a continent (in spite of universal 
opinion) about to obtain an orbicular preponderance, than to 
a partial rebellion against an unjust mother-country. By her 
adhesion to the cause of America, France deserted the cause 
of Europe ; and in playing the second role in the strife she 
lost her American colonies, without gaining the least advan- 
tage. This singular concurrence of human affairs, which none 
can deny, and none, save God, completely understand, has 
made that same American war sound not only the first 
victory-peal of the New \Yorld, but the first death-bell of the 
Old. 

Then you saw the ancient institutions of Europe crumble, 
and the thrones were broken, yet the people could not build 



96 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

a durable habitation from the wreck ; all ideas and all sys- 
tems erred as chance willed, till a man of genius by the force 
of conquest, succeeded in binding together for awhile the 
broken fasces. 

What is still more strange, and what proves beyond con- 
tradiction, the future and inevitable dominion of that Amer- 
ica, to which we will one day be what dying Egypt was to 
radiant Grreece, is that American ideas invade, press us and 
every day usurp more space and power. They do not suit 
us. They have no analogy with our souvenirs, our life, our 
crowded populations, our rival cupidities. No matter, we 
cede to the logic of facts and antecedents, terrible necessity 
whose yoke we cannot break. Our hope of revival is by 
American ideas, as the Romans hoped for a moment to be 
revived by an Oriental infusion which ended by destroying 
them. These reflections, which belong only to the future 
and which cannot change the present, do not prevent the 
resolution of the British government and its efforts to people 
with poor families. Upper Canada, New Scotland, Cape 
Breton, New Brunswick, from being a good and useful mea- 
sure. There is in those regions, some of which are fertile, 
room for some millions of workers. The city of Toronto 
alone supports 15,000 workmen who gain £2 per month, and 
their board. France has not yet reached this point, nor 
can she now make use of this grand remedy, emigration. 

If we become Americans, let us carefully imitate their 
commercial energy, spirit of enterprize and active resolution. 
If we become English, let us try to employ, after their exam- 
ple, colonization and emigration to augment the resources and 
to heal the wounds of our country. 

We know how much England is embarrassed by the devel- 
opment of her industry, commerce and wealth. Her pocu- 
Qiary and moral force, her population, ambition and luxury 



LITERATURE AND El.OQUEXCE, 07 

Iiavo grown beyoud measure ; enclosed in the island wliicli slio 
occupies, she cannot enlarge its diameter, nor offer a theatre 
for labor proportionate to their need to these eager and fam- 
ished avidities. Hence that furious competition, that excess- 
ive and vehement rivalry ; that crowd which blocks up all the 
avenues of commerce and fortune ; hence that difficulty of 
employing capital ; that frin:htful pauperism ; those poor laws 
which only aggravate the evil 5 that plethora which keeps up 
a permanent and burning fever in the veins of a vigorous 
body. Economists try a thousand means to counterbalance 
this movement, and to oppose a barrier to the progress of 
evil, which is, after all, only the progress of industry, of op- 
ulence and of commerce. 

Mr. Malthus and Miss Martineau request the English not 
to marry any more, or at least very seldom, for \h?. love of 
their country, since the increase of population is the ^\il nt 
source of the scourge. Other philosophers counsel the an- 
nual exportation of the poor to the American, Australian and 
even African colonies. While they offer an issue and means 
of decrease to this hungry crowd, permitting them to go work 
and die in some wild land far from their native one, England 
herself receives pauper crowds from Ireland, who not only 
replace the expatriated workmen, but lower, by their extreme 
misery and need, the price of labor, and increase the hard- 
ness of the lot of those who have not left the country. 
England, then, is like a vase, emptying itself at one end to be 
filled at another. 

Ireland is a perpetual manufactory of poor-devil sans-cu- 
lotkSj who have no trade, and who, with three potatoes in 
their hand, cross the channel and go to demand work in Eng- 
land for the lowest possible wages. They get it, and then 
stretch themselves to sleep upon their rags. I wish that phi- 
lanthropists and calculators would think of these things : they 
6 



98 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

would sec one of the many proofs that Europe cannot possibly 
long keep up its supremacy on the globe, and one of the 
gravest symptoms of that change, which is more interest- 
ing, than the revolutions of the Roman Empire ; and which 
will undoubtedly give the sceptre of human destinies into the 
hands of those who are now in apprenticeship but who will 
soon be emancipated. 

This far sight belongs only to philosophers. Statesmen in 
England act wisely in encouraging with all their power, the 
emigration of poor families, the foundation of new colonies, 
the extension of the old ones, and the employment of indus- 
try and national ambition outside of the small field offered by 
the mother country. There are now ten new Colonies which 
are beginning to flourish under the protection of the British 
government, I mention those in the Canadian Backwoods, 
and in Southern and Western Australia. The United States 
prufit by the reception of immense numbers of Irish : 
workers, women, children, old men, throw themselves on board 
of vessels, cross the Atlantic, offer the feebleness or strength 
of their arms, are accepted, and die at the end of a few months 
or years, crushed by hard toil. They gain twice as much as 
they did at home, work six times as hard, and perish six times 
as soon. Their efforts are like combats. The American 
people in the course of its progress cares little for fatigue, 
nor for the existences devoured and absorbed by it- It walks 
or rather runs on ; and be sure that it will not halt soon. 
Usurpation is easy to it, is necessary, slmost fatal, in the sense 
of the Antique Destiny : we have seen with what facility, and 
irresistible motion Texas became part of the States. 

English statesmen have a thousand motives for throwing 
their poor population into the woods of Canada, and to make 
of them an intervening rampart against the invasion of the 
American Confederation. They arm themselves against two 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 99 

enemies at a time ; against the old French population of 
Canada, and the Republicans of the States, who know so well 
how to act for their own advantage. It is in order to favor 
and increase these emigrations that the British government 
has published and profusely distributed " Letters of certain 
indigent Persons who have emigrated to Canada." They 
contain the most seductive and brilliant picture of the happi- 
ness whicli attends future emigrants ; they promise a land of 
Cocagne, whose rivers roll o'er sands of gold, with farm- 
houses already built, and swarms of young Canadian girls 
awaiting them with open arms. This little untruth, a com- 
mon political hoax, is very pardonable. It is much better for 
the poor workmen of England, Scotland and Ireland, to clear, 
in the sweat of their brows, a wild domain on the great Canadian 
Lakes, than to rest famished or to become criminal in the 
streets of Glasgow, Birmingham or London. 

Men have counted the victims of ancient conquerors ; have 
they thought of those of modern industry, generations made 
meagre, intellects knotted and dulled, the caniUs of Lyons, 
the crazy men of Birmingham. Since the year 1818, the 
weavers and hand-spinners of Scotland and Northern Eng- 
land petition incessantly for a means of gaining a living. 
Every year parliament treats them as Don Juan does M. 
Dimanche, puts them off until next year, and so the matter 
drops. Nevertheless, machine labor, gigantic rival of human 
toil, continues its progress, and crushes in its route all who 
resist. '' Destroy the machines," cry some journals and 
pamphlets. '' Favor emigration," say wiser politicians ; it is 
the only remedy for exuberant population, for unemployed 
arms, for overstocked professions. Found colonies in good 
situations, fertile, peaceable ; the money consecrated to that 
will be placed at heavy interest ; the more your colonists are 
satisfied, the more will others be attracted ; the more will you 



100 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

lighten the burden of the metropolis. These advices arc ex- 
cellent. Colonics are admirable exutoireSj useful to the me- 
tropolis even at the moment that they separate from it. 
Unfortunately, France has only been able to discover for 
others a proper territory for colonization without herself found- 
ing colonies. 

We will not return to that sad old malady of our France 
"which seems always destined to sow the seed of progress, but 
never to reap. England, on the contrary, is essentially a 
colonizing country. She must continue that work which 
created the United States, and carry it on with redoubled 
energy, activity and perseverance. She is notified of this 
necessity by facts hideously distinct. 

There are three standing armies of paupers, Irish cotters, 
Sussex laborers, and Glasgow weavers ; and these three form 
a mass of thirty thousand men, without any means of exist- 
ence, without knowing where to get daily bread. You see, 
say the parliamentary reports, troops of thirty or forty work- 
men, who go from one end of England to the other, looking 
for work, asking alms on the road, picked up by the police 
officers, and happy to get the black bread of the parish work- 
house. 

While the English political economists struggle against this 
population, the American of the United States, and the in- 
habitants of Canada demand loudly hands for the cultivation 
of the soil. " All the world," says a Canadian journal, 
*' knows that population is wealth." Thus, for one country, 
that population is riches, which makes the poverty of another. 
And in these two axioms, placed in juxtaposition, one can see 
the future of Europe and America ; here rivalries, unsatis- 
fied ambitions in the midst of great industrial prosperity, the 
decline and the pressure of famished men, of which China 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 101 

offers an example ; there, continuous, rapid, onward, inevit- 
able progress. 

These emigrations, which should be favored by England 
and by France, augment and precipitate the progress of North 
America. It is not probable that the angle- Canadian colonies, 
and the British possessions bordering on the United States, 
will long remain insensible to the near and contagious ex- 
ample of independence and self-government. When their 
cities shall have been built, their fields cleared, their forests 
thinned, their commercial relations established, they will 
separate, one by one, from the parent stock, and affiliate 
themselves to that formidable group of republics which bor- 
ders the Atlantic, and is stretching towards the Pacific. 



SECTION II. 

POPULAR MOVEMENT IN FRANCE AND ENGLAND EDUCATION 

OF THE MASSES. 

The despair of old Europe, fatigued by labors, exhausted 
by pleasure, enervated by desire, manifests itself especially in 
England, France, and Germany. The chartist movements 
which have recently alarmed Great Britain, are but the power- 
less, yet mad aspiration after necessary well-being ; the 
roar of the popular lion agitated in his den. In France, it is 
more mingled with self-love, envy, and jealous hatred ; with 
our neighbors, there is more hunger, thirst and sorrow. The 
insurrection of vanities is not less terrible than that of hunger. 
Here, and on the other side of the channel, the masses seek 
to employ their power. You cannot oppose the fact, nor 
strive against what exists. All good politics, worthy of the 



102 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

name, takes situations as it finds them, and strives to direct 
them. 

At present there is a difficult and fearful question in Eng- 
land. Would popular education have prevented these sor- 
rows ? 

Popular education, its distribution, the control which it 
should exercise, and the choice of men to whom to confide it, 
occupies to-day the minds of Great Britain, or rather, all the 
thoughtful minds of Europe. It is not a simple question. It 
is allowed that the people must be enlightened ; it is not 
agreed, either as to the degree of instruction, or the means 
of education, or the relative proportion of moral and reli- 
gious teaching. The clergy declare that the intellectual di- 
rection of humanity belongs to them alone ; the enemies of 
the clergy accuse them of wishing to revive fanaticism for 
their own profit. Some philosophers see with terror an 
immoral education going on in the people ; others assert that 
moral light always accompanies intellectual, and that there 
can be no risk in enlis-htening men. 

"Alas, you deceive yourselves," reply some clear-seeing 
men to these latter. " All the ambitions awakened by an 
equalized education would render a government impossible. 
Men crowd already to the professions called liberal, and which 
constitute the aristocracy of to-day. You will soon have 
twenty-five doctors to one patient, and sixty lawyers for a 
single suit. Prepare workmen to exercise mechanic arts, 
which are certainly as useful as the babble of tongue or pen. 
Keep them far from a literary education which will make them 
bad men of letters, indifferent artists, and painters of screens 
and Swiss watches." 

To this the partisans of equality answer, that it is infamous 
to establish a hierarchy of education and instruction, that the 
University is a feudal institution, behind the age, opposed to 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 103 

progress, and which ought to be destroyed. On the other 
hand, the clergy continue to fulfil their task ; philanthro- 
pists print little volumes, and every year prizes are given 
for pretty treatises on popular morality, of which the people 
never read a line, but which profit two persons, the author 
and the printer. 

"VVe have spoken of France. England is exposed to greater 
dangers ; forced to continue her colossal industry, her univer- 
sal commerce, and her gigantic exportations. She assembles 
in several parts of her territory, thousands of men vowed to 
the manual labor made necessary by her industry. They are 
the servitors of the temple ; poor souls, they are its sacri- 
fices ! Every time that a new invention advances the car, as 
the poets say, a thousand existences are crushed beneath the 
wheel of this Juggernaut. I do not say this to calumniate in- 
dustry, but because, unfortunately I love truth, and will write it. 
In a season of calm, when there are no revolutions, no riots, no 
new machine to replace by a copper piston two hundred vigo- 
rous human arms ; when all goes well for the workman, look at 
his life at Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Liverpool, Shef- 
field, London or Edinburgh. He and his wife rise early, be- 
cause they must arrive as early as the others. The workmen 
are so numerous and pressing that a little laziness would lose 
both place and bread. The wife confides to a paid, yet care- 
less nurse, her little child, sallow, diminutive, thin or ricketty ; 
one of those frightful children, found only at Lyons or Liver- 
pool, and which will also, one day become a laborer. Then, 
the husband and wife go to their toil. No duties, no domes- 
tic pleasures, no motion of the intelligence, nothing which 
can awaken in these materialized creatures, the soul, the 
mind, the spark of divinity. In speaking of this horrid use 
of humanity, one must restrain one's self, and not give way to 
declamation. As living is dear in these great cities of in- 



104 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

dustry, a child not yet grown becomes useful in proportion 
to his strength. They use his little arm as soon as it can 
move a wheel or lift a hammer. He has not one moment 
free for instruction or pleasure ; all his minutes are occupied. 
The (^reat thing is to live ; one moment lost is a mouthful of 
bread lost. When all days and hours pass thus, what of 
Sunday ? and of Monday ? Those who know man, and the 
eternal laws of his organization, know that these unfortunato 
slaves require pleasure and violent distraction. They take it. 
The limbs fatigued with labor, or stiffened by a week without 
exercise, are distended and bathed in drunkenness and coarse 
joy. To the abominable torpor, the frightful lassitudes suc- 
ceeds twenty-four or forty-eight hours of orgies. Then the 
man re-becomes a beast of burden, takes up again his weekly 
yoke, and so goes on till he dies. 

You will acknowledge that none need education more than 
this man ; but how to give it ! what education to give him ! 

The workmen in manufactories are employed before they 
grow up. His physical force, as it grows, strangles the intel- 
lectual. He has no time to think ; he knows or can do but 
two things, act and enjoy. The brute faculties develope 
themselves, without his possessing the happy instincts of 
conservative wisdom which Providence has given to the 
animals. Every day he does the same work in the same 
way. He acts like a lever ; a pulley, a hammer ; he loses 
his manhood ; he is a bit of brass or of iron. Are these 
observations a calumnious attack upon industry t No. We 
seek, completely disinterested, the truth, the reality, the facts, 
the evils, and the remedies. The father of political economy, 
Adam Smith, a really eloquent man, like all profound and 
sincere writers, foresaw these results ; he declared that the 
division of labor would produce necessarily and fatally, an 
3poch where the cleverness and strength of every workman 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 105 

would be concentrated in a very simple and purely material 
operation. No idea can germinate in the brain of a man who 
has cut a thread, turned a spindle, or unscrewed a nut two 
thousand times a day, for three hundred and fifty days a 
year. The comj^oser in a printing office, obliged to reflect 
while he works, and to accomplish a variety of complicated 
and delicate operations, is nearly always a smart, intelligent 
fellow ; " but," says Smith, " the greater portion of workmen 
in the factories have no occasion to exercise their intelligence. 
They lose the habit of thinking, and grow stupid and ignorant. 
Their mental torpor hinders them, not only from taking part 
in a reasonable conversation, but from understanding a tender 
or generous sentiment, and consequently, from forming a solid 
and equitable judgment on the duties of private life. IIow 
can such a man associate himself with the great interests of 
the country ? The uniformity of his stationary life corrupts 
the courage of his soul, and even the activity of his body. 
He buys his partial dexterity at the price of all his intellec- 
tual, social, and moral virtues. If the governments do not 
take some measures to correct the degradation, this will be the 
miserable condition to which it will reduce the poor workmen 
of all civilized society, that is, the large majority of the popu- 
lation. 

The recent movements of the Chartists have proved that 
the great economist was right. Uneducated masses, worn out 
by toil and want, broke suddenly forth. At the voice of 
eertain leaders they seized upon spade and mattock, and 
descended like avalanches upon the peaceable cities. One 
was obliged to give battle to these Cyclops, and when they 
were beaten on one side, they were likely to rise up again on 
the other. They have immense physical force ; they have no 
principle, no light nor bridle ; they are habituated to every 
fatigue and privation ; they want more bread, more leisure, 



106 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

and less toil. How to answer them ! A new Agrarian law 
even would not satisfy them. Understanding no economy, 
no moderation, no virtue, they would dissipate in a few days, 
the riches of pillaged provinces, for incapacity to make pro- 
fitable use of well-being and repose is the frighful result of a 
material and brutal existence. Thus civilization has created 
new scourges ; industry has given birth to unheard of 
monsters. Utopians dream vainly ; the promisers of destiny 
vainly rock humanity in their hammocks woven of silken 
phrases ; our original misery exhibits itself always, exacting 
from us vigilant care, attentive prudence, and forcing us con- 
stantl}'- to repair the bark of civilization which is no doubt 
triumphant, but triumphant only by courage and labor. To 
fihow the bright side of things only ; to issue to the people 
bulletins of victory as false as those of conquerors are ; to 
affirm that certain magic words are enough for social happi- 
ness ; thus to dupe the ears of men by that flattering song 
which pleases the weaknesses of Hope, is perhaps a lucrative 
business, but it is also a dangerous and an alarming one. Let 
us not seduce a civilization grown old by a wretched and 
perpetual caress ; nor resemble the courtizan, who turns to 
her profit the shameless passions, and grows rich by the pro- 
fusions and follies which she encourages. 

Every epoch has its diseases ; every new epoch sends out its 
unknown diseases which we cannot study, but must guess at. 
You need not be a pessimist because you are a physician ; 
you do not assassinate the man whose wound you probe. 
There are minds, at once thoughtful and practical, which see 
all the consequences of a situation : Do not call them mis- 
anthropic. Misanthropic ! Bacon, Montesquieu, Machiavel, 
Pitt, minds of the same order, did not desire to be esteemed 
dupes by their century, and they were right. They saw that 
advantages have tlieir inconvenience, and a conquest its 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 107 

perils ; and they were right ! They would have told you of 
the dangers of an enormous increase of the material forces of 
society ; they would have recommended you, above all, to 
elevate the moral and intellectual condition of the masses ; 
which serve as blind instruments to a new civilization. They 
would have told you that it is alway from the bosom of Force 
and Life that Death is developed ; that war was the enemy of 
Rome ; that feudality perished by the inequality of the 
powers upon which it was based ; — in a word, that instead of 
worshipping herself, the reigning Industry of to-day, should 
take precautions and guarantee herself against the results of 
her conquests.. Under the protection of the great names 
which I have cited, these useful counsels would obtain some 
attention ; would escape at least the hollow accusation of 
pessimism and bad-humor. 

The social crisis in which we live, in which all Europe is 
more or less plunged, is simply an ascending movement of the 
inferior classes, who covet the power and riches of the class 
immediately above them. This covetous movement is pecu- 
liarly felt in large cities where interests come in collision, 
where passions ferment, where a luminous and ardent atmos- 
phere envelops every thing, where ambition is in the vital air, 
where, before the eyes is a dazzling luxury, the pleasures of 
the rich, and the delight? which civilization reserves for its 
favorites. The Birmingham workman, wanting bread if he 
should miss one week's labor, imprisoned in a garret six feet 
square, inflamed by the preaching of street-orators, would 
not certainly be any more content, nor more peaceful, should 
a half education enable him to read Cobbett's pamphlets, or 
even to translate the theories of Rousseau. The light which 
you would give him would only make him seize his arms, by 
showing to him the hideous wretchedness and iniquity of his 
position. 



108 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

According to late statistics there are in Manchester, Sal- 
ford, Liverpool, Bury, and York, alone, 60,000 children 
growing up to be Chartists. The first measures, to be taken 
are at once the most simple and the most difficult : it relates 
to the giving of bread and well-being to these people. I am 
not sure that a wise and extended legislation would not oppose 
all excessive agglomeration of workmen and manufactories at 
the same point. First, well being ; then morality — instruc- 
tion will come afterwards. Popular instruction would leave 
to the working generations, a self-respect and attachment for 
society if they could feel themselves to be its esteemed sup- 
ports and not its victims. 

What England shall do, will be a lesson for all Europe ; 
for all Europe treads the same path. All Europe must 
struggle against the same dangers born of the progress of 
industry and of the blind force which industry employs, 
inflames and exalts. According to us, the first duty of pru- 
dent politics will be to provide for the urgent necessity of 
these unfortunate populations, then to elevate them gradually 
to the moral level of their minds, and at last to make them 
to participate in that instruction which will be the last and 
greatest benefit. What now occupies the Chartists is wages, 
bread, drink, and covering ; the problem of the moment is to 
increase their wages, not their light. Educate their children, 
and let the state encourage those parents who are moral and 
intelligent enough to send their ofispring to school. England, 
always prudent in her ameliorations, faithful to her personal 
traditions, and always opposed to the scabrous experience of 
empirical politics, will unquestionably follow, the gentlest and 
least violent way ; the surest, not the noisiest ; not the most 
democratic, the most flattering to vulgar passions, but the 
must benevolent, the most useful to those who sufier to-day, 



LITERATURE A>;D ELOQUENCE. 109 

as to those who will pay to-morrow the sufferings of their 
fellow creatures. 



SECTION IIL 

POETRY OF VENGEANCE AND OF POPULAR WRATH IN EUROPE. 

Such a position should find a poetic expression. 

The first in date, the chief of these poets is Crabbe. 
Before him the Saxon and domestic tendencies were revealed, 
but with less violence and harshness. It is easy to go back 
from Crabbe and Burns to Goldsmith, whose *' Deserted 
Village" is a popular and social elegy, or to Gray's " Elegy 
in a country Church-yard." This popular view is ancient; 
long interrupted by Puritanism or by Italian and French in- 
fluence, it is to be found even in the middle ages, and appears 
in the Vision of Pierce Plowman, the roturier and Saxon 
reclamation of a peasant against the abuse of Norman Sove- 
reignty. 

In America, the poetry of vengeance could not arise. 
The primitive liberty of nature, the great struggle of the 
Puritans with the elements, the waves, the soil, the wind, did 
not permit the domestic muse to take this fearful and bitter 
flight, nor to become hateful and violent. The earliest of 
American litcrateurs, Franklin, Audubon, Cooper, are ami- 
able and human writers, that is popular in the true sense of 
the word. They write for all the world like Shakspeare, 
Montague, Cervantes. But in England, in tho midst of au 
old and refined society, is produced another falsely-popular 
literature, vindicative and furious, destined exclusively for 



110 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

workmen, peasants, and men without property or civil rights. 
Stranr^o, that while democratic America fostered a literature 
graceful and elegant, full of fine and delicate shading, aristo- 
cratic and natural, old, weary Europe gave birth to a brood 
of tragic poets, dithyrambic and academic in the dress of the 
penniless ; — false men of the people who speak loudly and 
boldly, and roughly, and lyingly. 

Hierarchic, feudal England gave the first impulse. Crabbe 
is the primary instigator. Robert Burns, a peasant, followed 
him closely. Robert Bloomfield, and South ey, in his youth, 
trod the same path. 

Among these prose and poet-workmen, some have really 
issued from the inferior classes. Two are men of genius, 
Robert Burns, and the Sheffield Blacksmith, The latter, 
Ebenezer Elliot, Saxon and Puritan by his Christian name, 
has been powerfully reviewed by Carlyle.* 



As an artist, Elliot is far from being perfect. Epic with- 
out knowing it, he tries to be lyric, and does not always suc- 
ceed. His poetry is Crabbe, Wordsworth, Cowper, exagger- 
ated. - His energy would be more valuable if he contained it 
more ; if his flame were not mingled with whirlpools of smoke, 
such as float over the furnaces of Birmingham. He throws 
out his poetry in ardent pufis, somewhat like Savage, the co- 
temporary of Johnson ; and the incoherence of his words, 
mingled with his perpetual cry of fury, pain and hunger, pro- 
duces a painful sensation. Yet sometimes he forgets his 
political mission, ceases to speak against taxes, the dearness 
of bread and proprietors, seeks the shadows of the wood, 

• Here Mr, Chasles gives the review of the Corn Law Rhym es by 
Carlyle, too well known here to be reprinted in this volume. 



, LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. Ill 

climbs tlie mountains, and then his accents penetrate, born as 
they are of religious sentiment and the view of Nature. 

Yet he might have expressed in prose what he has said in 
verse ; the lesson would not have been less striking. One 
can live in prose. The Koran, half the works of Goethe, the 
Emile of Rousseau, and the novels of Scott, are in prose. 
Perhaps even, the thought of Elliot would have been more 
vigorously developed, if he had not wished to be a versifier ; 
if he had not mounted that often restive, often lame steed, 
wliich the ancients called Pegasus, and we Rhyme. 

Thomas Cooper has written a savage poem, called the Pur- 
gatory of Suicides ; the idea of which is as follows : Society, 
down to our day, has been a hell which noble souls hasten to 
flee from. By destro3nng the frame of government, and 
crushing religion and existing institutions, human force will 
regain its normal development ; the triumph of our race over 
material force, already more than half conquered, will pursue 
its inevitable course, and assure an universal well-being. 

To these must be added in their measure, "Ernest, or 
Social Regeneration," " Nights of a Workingman," edited by 
Dickens, " Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-loom 
Weaver," by Thom ; and Leonard Addison's " Tenant of 
Creation." Then there are autobiographies in the same taste *. 
Thorn's, Mary Ann Wellington's, Mary Catchpole's, and 
others. 

Now, America, the latest in the road to civilization, has no 
taste for these memoirs of penniless people and working men. 
But she delights in the recital of adventures, violent narratives, 
strange odysscys, full of sudden changes of fortune, of motion, 
and of novelty. Sometimes, after the English fashion, they 
are apocryphal confessions. The heroes, therefore, if they have 
no great moral valor, have at least a piquant singularity. 

For instance, there is now at Charleston a poor negro, who 



112 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

has a little mercer-sLop, and attends the Methodist Church 
with great assiduity. He gets along well with his wife, also 
an African, and the little establishment is much esteemed in 
the neighborhood. How can a noisy glory attach itself to so 
humble, so retired a household. By what literary alchemy 
change this poor man into a hero, and his life into a romance ^ 
We will see. 

One night, a Protestant minister, no doubt in search of a 
call, enters and sits down by the counter of Zamba. As he 
listens to his half-African jargon, confused ideas of specu- 
lation, philanthropy and literature arise in the mind of the 
visitor. The negro, freed by the kindness of his master, 
recounts his adventures, which are those of all his Tace ; he 
he says that he was a king in his own land ; king like those 
petty chiefs who, on the shores of African rivers, adorned 
with old small-clothes, remnant of European frippery, and an 
ancient uniform coat, bought from a sailor, rule over two 
hundred poor people, annually decimate their people and so 
provide for the slave trade. The story of Zamba. his lion 
hunts, the burning of a neighboring village, the voyage on 
board an American ship, and the peculiar position of a king 
who, in trying to sell his subjects, gets sold himself, interest 
the visitor. He thinks thatZamba's narrative may be worked 
up ; and as the American market is not very favorable to these 
writings, he prints at London, " The Life and Adventures of 
Zamba, a Negro King, and llecollections of his Captivity in 
South Carolina; written by himself." This work had some 
run ; and occupies even a prominent place in the literature 
of fraudulent confessions and false individuality. In the two 
hundred and fifty pages which form the volume, the author 
has imitated Paul and Virginia, borrowed from Raynal, copied 
the ncgrophilists, and used the worn-out literature of Europe. 
You find here, the eternal recriminations in favor of human 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 113 

liberty and fraternity ; a thousand hunting stories and adven- 
tures copied from travel-books; and at last, the picture 
already over-painted by Mrs. Trolloppe, Miss Martineau, and 
twenty others, of the tyranny exercised by the Southern 
planters. In this individual confession all that is lacking 
is an individuality ; out of the recital of Zamba, but one 
thing is left — Zamba. 

There is far more interest and talent in certain American 
Autobiographies, among others the " Memoirs of Jonathan 
Sharp." The " Sojourn of two Americans at Noukahiva," 
and the " Return of the American Sailor to the United 
States." The " Sojourn, etc.," was much read and sold well, 
because of the singularity of the hero's adventures; the 
author then found it natural to plough in the furrow which 
had procured so good a crop ; and thus he did it. 

The hero was taken captive by the inhabitants of the Isles 
of Marquesas, and recounts how his savage hosts carried off, 
one fine day, the sailor who served him for domestic — he even 
lets you see how much he fears that this fidus Achates had 
been eaten by the savages with great pomp. In a more 
recent autobiography this Sancho Panza revives ; he was not 
eaten, but came very near it. From cataract to abyss ; 
from promontory to valley ; from wigwam to wigwam, he got 
at last to New York ; where he published his Odyssey, the 
most gasconading and amusing of the fictions of which I speak. 
Here at least there is warmth, action, noise, and when ana- 
lysed, much interest in the narrative in which the author 
seems quietly to make fun of the public. I love his effrontery 
when I compare it with the Puritan pretensions of Zamba, 
etc. Since quackery there is to be, give me that which 
marches hand on hip, like Callot's footmen, and not that 
which plays the hypocrite, adopts a sanctified air, and affects 
an ingenuous coarseness. 



114 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

TliG life of Jonathan Sharp contains also facts new to 
Europe. It is the history of a convert to the dogmata of the 
singular sect founded by Joseph Smith, a sect whose outward 
practices are strangely bizarre, and conceal, says the writer, 
very important ulterior designs. 

*' I was dreaming in my shop," he says, " on the point of 
bankruptcy, a very common and natural event in our country, 
when I saw coming in a large muscular man, who took his hat 
off with politeness and sate down ; I had never seen him 
before. It was Smith. From what I had heard of him, I 
regarded him as one of those numerous American speculators, 
people who mingle pious fraud with vulgar trickery, and so 
cheat humanity in two ways. 

" ' I am Joseph Smith,' he said, ' I will not employ any 
oratorical precautions with you ; I know that you have imagi- 
nation, intelligence, resources, and also that you are on the 
brink of ruin. I offer you a support ; profit by it. The 
ignorant detest me, the foolish fear me. The mass never 
sees anything but the exterior, which makes it stupid ; it 
neither looks for the causes, nor examines into their conse- 
quences. What is now certain is that I am now master of 
twcnty-five hundred men, whom I have taught, who believe 
in me ; for whom my word is law, whose customs seem singu- 
lar and who therefore are more attached to these customs. 
Can any one reproach me with having employed mysticism, 
fanaticism, incantations, hallucinations or magnetism, to attain 
my object. Will you, like an idiot, laugh at my dances in 
church, my religious waltzes ? The Dervises do the same. 
I have mastered minds, and conquered souls by these means. 
Without my inflexible energy, I could not have bound, in the 
same chain, all these men, some wild and uncultivated, other 
civilized and perfidious. I come to you because I know that 
you can understand me ; because in your present situation 



LITERATtJRE AND ELOQUENCE. 115 

you can do nothing better than come with me. My dogmata 
are for the vulgar crowd ; it is amused by my rites, and my 
grotesque ceremonies help to pass the time. To superior 
intellects, and to men of a certain order I have to offer a 
more precise and elevated object.' 

" I looked at him attentively, while his small, deep-set, 
black eye, penetrated me, and seemed to look into my very 
soul. Flattery, stratagem, resolution^ suppl^^fss and f(3racity 
were the unmistakable characteristics of that Jewish face, 
with its nose crooked like the beak of a bird of prey, its fore- 
head high as a wall. He seemed to be studying the effect 
which he had produced on me. Ilis brows were raised, and 
the quick gleam of his fiery eye betrayed the secret fire of 
withheld thought. "We kept silence for a while. 

." Life is a struggle," said he. " The strongest will win. 
Till now I have been the strongest. If you do not know my 
history I will tell it you. Nurtured on alms, born in a street 
of New-Orleans, apprentice, hawker, small tradesman, I was 
thrown among the masses, and lived and suffered like them. 
The first fact which I recognized was the folly with which the 
so-called free men of our American Republics, so proud of 
their institutions, strive to destroy each other, and consider 
each other as devouring, or to be devoured. From these 
inimical atoms, these individual egotisms, these quarreling 
appetites, there was nothing to hope for but perpetual war 
and destruction without end. These men have not even the 
instincts of self-preservation, by which the animals unite to 
defend themselves against a common enemy. 

" This I understood, and an idea struck me, to unite 
these wills by the force of a superior will. The folly of the 
opinions, or of the ideas by which men are united under the 
same standard, are of little importance, provided that the 
battalion be formed. I set myself to work, therefore, and I 



116 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

sncceeded. My first efforts were limited to a small district in 
Pennsylvania. Soon, nearly all Ohio was mine. I realized 
anew the miracles of the first Christian monasteries. Among' 
my many adepts, some brought me fortune, others credit, and 
all power. Our force was in union, and every day, our group, 
grown more compact, contrasted more with the feebleness and 
enervation which surrounded us. Now, I am master of nearly 
all Missouri, and I form vast plans. On the very edge of the 
wilderness there are Mormons, men whose hearts beat in 
union with mine. I have given them unity, discipline, zeal, 
habits of order ; now, all that we want to be strong is perse- 
cution — one single persecution, and the number of my follow- 
ers will be centupled. You do not know how much liberty 
of action weighs upon the majority of men ; how necessary 
despotism is to them. It is one of the great causes of my 
success. Few have the courage to begin ; few know how to 
use their independence. I am a despot, and all obey me. 
The territory which separates us from Mexico is filled with 
savage tribes, which only want to be rallied. The Irish 
laborers, who suffer and die of hunger ; the European exiles, 
of whom there are more every year, will come to me ; the 
Comanches, the Patagonians, the mingled races which live on 
the borders of civilization,, will one day be mine. I have har- 
mony and order for me. I unite the divided elements ; the 
future must be mine. While democracy isolates individuals, 
I group them ; and sooner or later you will see me raising the 
cupolas and domes of my capital city above the forests which 
surround us. 

" There is a future empire in the still little civilized pro- 
vinces of Wisconsin, Illinois, Iowa, Michigan, and Indiana. 
AVould you know why I address myself to you ? Your uncle 
commands the miners of this district, is the principal magis- 
trate, and one of the richest proprietors. Do you and he 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 117 

come witli us, and our power is assured. Wo will pass tlie 
northern lakes, and go even to the Pacific. You see that the 
words liberty and equality arc but words ; no men are e(jual ; 
the rest is political fraud. I will not treat you as I do my 
vulgar subjects. I tell you the truth ; I do not hide my 
ambition. Come then with me." 



If the popular books published by certain Americans are 
badly written ; if the form be imperfect and the diction 
careless or insufficient ; at least they interest by the facts 
which they give and the experience which they teach. 



CHAPTEE III. 



SECTION I. 

HERMAN MELVILLE AND HIS REAL VOYAGES. 

Mr. Melville lived for four months, absolutely like a 
primitive man, in Noukahiva, a Polynesian island, and it is 
his adventures while there that form the subject of his first 
books, the narratives of his actual voyages. He lived in an 
unknown valley in one of the Marquesas Isles, in the midst of 
an inland tribe, scarcely visited by the missionary, and which 
has not yet undergone that half-civilization which is impose'd 
upon the savages of the coast by their contact with Europeans. 
These latter have, as we know, become strange samples of 
pretentious barbarism, and coquettish ignorance. Mr. Mel- 
ville, who lived very little among the half-civilized, knew 
well the savages who ate up his comrade, and intended to eat 
him. 

Unfortunately, Mr. Melville's style is so ornate, his 
Kubcns-like tints are so vivid and warm, and he has so 
strong a predilection for di-amatic effects, that one does not 
know exactly how much confidence to repose in his narra- 
tive. We do not take except cum grano salisj his florid 
descriptions. 



LITERATrRR AXD ELOQUENCE. 119 

Like all travellers, he is an entliusiast for Noukaliiva. 
Since Doctor Saavercle described these scenes, down to the 
aphrodisiac narratives of Bougainville, these latitudes have had 
the singular property of warming the traveller's pen. Mr. 
Melville has felt the same iDfluence ; he writes like his pre- 
decessors, except that Don Christoval Saaverde de Figueroa 
was more mystic, that is, more a man of his age ; Cook more 
simply, naive, and sailor- like ; Bougainville more ornate, 
more eighteenth-century -like and refined ; while our cotem- 
porary, Mr. Melville, is hardy, violent, and brusque, with a 
tendency to the terrible, the interesting, the unforeseen. 
It is, however, for him, not for us, to answer for the truth of 
his story. 

Certainly he tells rather romantic stories ; but the violence 
of his coloring, natural in a sailor, takes its source from the 
force and variety of his impressions. The sailor does not 
proceed gently and gradually from one degree of latitude to a 
neighboring one ; there are no shades for him ; nothing pre- 
pares his imagination to receive the shock of those energetic 
oppositions which shake it incessantly ; he passes without 
preparation from the activity of a European port, Liverpool 
or Brest, to the flowering and silent solitudes of Noukahiva ; 
from the charms of Mexico to the Polar ices which beat his 
ship and imprison it in their silent desolation. Thus no one 
can more closely resemble an Arabian Night's story-teller, 
than a genuine sailor. Mr. Herman Melville, endowed with 
a strong taste for the marvellous, found himself on board of 
the Dolly ; he does not say in what rank ; perhaps he was 
making for his special diversion one of those voyages to which 
Americans willingly consecrate their pocket-money. 

Be it as it may, he had accompanied the Dolly in her 
previous voyages. Turn by turn, with her, he had visited the 
ioy coasts of the Atlantic regions, the scenes of mad cannibalism 



120 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

at the Viti Islands, the Spanish Tertullias and Alamedas at 
Manilla, strange strand, where the guitar of Seville resounds 
beneath the fingers of women, barely clothed ; and finally he 
he had seen the lake festivals of Soulou, draped in muslin 
and leading the indolent life of a Rajah of Hindostan. 

Then the Dolly carried Mr. Melville to New South Wales, 
whose ferocious tribes made the crew associate in their war- 
ceremonial and their death-dances. The Dolly's relaxation 
at Noukahiva succeeded to so many and various impressions 
and emotions, to six months of danger and fatigue. 

[^Note. — This is followed in the original by the complete 
substance of Typee, which we do not of course reproduce 
here, but give only the criticism of Mr. Chasles.] 

Taipee is a work in which we find most abundant details, 
new and circumstantial of the Pacific archipelago, a world 
held in reserve for future civilization. In reading it, one 
cannot avoid being surprised at the immensity of the margin 
still left for the development of the human race. 

A fiftieth part of the globe is nearly civilized. Already we 
see, in certain groups, in the zones of which we speak, some 
germs, rather grotesque, of imitation of Europe ; by the side 
of the entirely savage chiefs of Ambao, the king of the Sand- 
wich Isles, Kamehameha III., in his capital of Honolula, 
wears the slight Spanish moustache, the uniform a la fran- 
Qaise, the beard close shaved, yellow gloves, and no shoes nor 
stockings. The Kanakas of Sandwich, and the habitants of 
Tahiti, the most advanced in their social education, are amu- 
sing models of an incomplete sociality. As for the Typces of 
Noukahiva, among whom Mr. Melville has lived, they pre- 
serve the ancient characteristics of their race ; they are very 
lazy, simple, and limited of intellect, adroit with their hands, 
voluptuous and fond of eating their fellow creatures — in other 
respects, the best fellows in the world. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 121 

What may be doubted by the readers of the Taipee is that 
human races are elevated only slowly and with difficulty ; 
that the progress of their education is the work of time and 
circumstances, and the ideal type of physical and moral beauty 
is no more found upon the shores of unknown seas, nor in 
virgin forests than the hundred-leaved rose, or the savory 
peach in the pampas of America or the primitive shadows of 
Australia. I have always suspected that MM. de Bougainville, 
Maupertuis, Rousseau and Diderot did not tell us the truth ; 
that one wis of powerful imagination, and that another em- 
bellished the facts, covered them with an agreeable warmth 
and gave us false pictures of savage life. 

Virtue for virtue Malesherbes is much greater than Tonga- 
tabou or the Great Black-snake ; pleasure for pleasure, the 
ballet at the Opera is finer than the naive da.nces and grace- 
ful entwinings of the Hamadryads of Otaheite. The \<r>rk of 
our American proves this. If he exaggerate his coloring and 
strive after effect, still you see that he is a truthful man, who 
will have sensation, at any price ; excitement gives him life, 
he must have its seasoning even at the peril of death. Curious 
as a child, adventurous as a savage, he goes head foremost 
into objectless enterprises and executes them bravely. What 
he begins in the blundering headlong way of a beetle, he 
achieves with the courage of a man. 

It is the same spirit of violence, enterprise, and disdain for 
the consequences, which the Americans have borrowed from 
their Saxon ancestors and from the savage tribes indigenous 
to the land which they inhabit ; it is the same thirst for emo- 
tions which is shown in their commercial and industrial spec- 
ulations — which makes them prefer national bankruptcy to 
the ennui of economical repose — which urges them forward 
on the inclined plane of amelioration, and which exhibits to 
amazed travellers, those thousand leagues of rail-road, those 



122 " ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

immense streams covered witii steamers which jostle each 
other on the route, sink one another, or take unexpected leaps 
into the air. 



SECTION II. 

ARE MR. Melville's voyages apocryphal .? 

I took these voyages for a reality. The English critics 
said that I deceived myself; that Herman Melville was but a 
nom de plume, and that his romance-travels merely showed a 
vigorous power of imagination, and a great skill in drawing 
the long-bow. 

I was not of the same mind as the English critics. Cer- 
tainly he has told a thousand very strange stories ; he spoke 
of erotic and savage nymphs, idylic cannibals, temples hidden 
in forests and perched upon rocks of Noukahiva, handsome 
morais in the valleys and anthropophogy mixed with senti- 
mental dances ; but nearly all this may be found in de Bou- 
gainville, Ongas, Ellis, and Earle. He had too a stamp of 
verity, a savor of unknown and primitive nature, and a 
vivacity of impression which struck me. The shades appeared 
to me real, even if rather warm and for effect ; and to me, 
the romantic adventures of the author were given with a suf- 
ficient air of truth. 

Still they obstinately laughed at my credulous eulogies, and 
took the book for a hoax of the largest calibre. The style, 
without being pure and elegant, had vivacity and interest. 
You were astonished to see so imaginative and so gascon an 
American, but you admired him. The Ameiicans under- 
stand pleasantry, except when it touches the national pride ; 



LITERi^rURE AND ELOQUENCE. 123 

tliey like it also, nor is it repugnant even when of very high 
flavor. They say very singular things to each other in their 
legislative assemblies. Some serious and estimable journals 
announce their column of marriage under the vignette and 
title of " The Matrimonial Mouse-trap," Besides, it was an 
old English custom, used with remarkable dexterity by Daniel 
Defoe, to catch the public by fictions which seemed true. 
One can still remember the " Death-bed Revelations of Mrs. 
Veal," sold in the streets of London in 168S, and which 
deceived many good Calvinists. The pleasantry displeased no 
one, and Mr. Melville passed for a very amusing and very 
original siory-teWcw 

Nevertheless, an austere review, the New York Evangelist, 
had some scruples, showed in high relief the romantic inventions 
of Mr. Melville, accused him of improper jesting, and of 
having spoken lightly and slanderously of the missionaries of 
Tahiti and the Marquesas. It was not the aifair of the 
author to be treated thus. He answered nothing ; but 
suddenly, in January, 1846, one saw in a distant pro- 
vincial journal, (Buffalo Commercial Advertiser,) a letter 
from the valet-de-chambre sailor, Toby, accompanied by a 
note from the editor, who said that he had himself seen Toby. 
" His father is a good farmer of the village of Darien, 
Genesee County : Toby lives in our city, and is a house- 
painter : He affirms that the adventures told by Herman 
Melville are generally, and in all that is essential, true. Nor 
is there any cause to doubt the assertion of Toby, who is a 
very honest man." 

Then comes Toby's own letter, " whose name is Richard 
Green, and who was not eaten, though he came very near it. 
On his forehead is still a scar, remaining from a blow given him 
by a Noukahiva chief. He wants very much to find his old 
master and comrade in misfo"tune, Mclvillo, and begs the 



124 ORIGIiSr AND PROGRESS OF 

editor to print his letter, which he hopes will be copied by 
Albany, Boston, and New York papers, so that he may find 
Mr. Melville." 

Toby's letter did not persuade anybody ; no doubt it was 
all arranged beforehand. How, indeed, could you put the 
matter to the proof, and verify the names, facts, and dates ? 
Toby swears for Melville, and Melville for Toby, and the 
Buffalo editor for both ; whereupon, he too, receives a brevet 
of veracity. Mascarille answers for Jodelet, and Jodelet 
for Mascarille. The affair became complicated, and the 
galleries were very much amused ; there was something there 
for the Americans to giiess^ speculate^ conjecture^ calculate 
about. The chances of betting and the hazard of the stocks 
had gotten into literature. Mr. Herman Melville pushed his 
point like a true child of the United States, he weni a-head 
according to the sacramental word. The go-a-head system, 
the enterprise, the en-avant is everything now with the most 
goings most active people on the globe, the smartest nation in 
all creation. " Our mothers," says a clever American, 
" make haste to get us into the world ; we are in a hurry to 
live ; they are in a hurry to bring us up. We make our 
fortune by a turn of the hand, to lose it again in the twinkling 
of an eye. Our body goes ten leagues an hour ; our spirit is 
high-pressure ; our life goes like a shooting star ; our death is 
like a thunder-clap." 

Mr. Herman Melville was then in a hurry to profit by his 
first success. He produced a sequel to Typee, told how 
Toby had escaped bciag eaten, and called this sequel Omoo. 
About the same may be said of this book as of the others. It 
had success enough, and the reputation of the teller was 
made. ]']very body allowed tliat Mr. Melville had an infinite 
imagination ; that he inventpd the most curious possible ex- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 125 

travaganzas, and that, like Cyrano de Bergerac, he excelled 
in serious mystification. 

After reading Typee and Omoo, I had, as I have said, much 
doubt as to the justice of the general English and American 
opinion, which one finds in the majority of the journals and 
reviews, wherein the " romances" of Mr. Melville are dis- 
cussed. The freshness and depth of the impressions pro- 
duced by these books amazed me. I saw a writer, not so 
capable of amusing himself with a dream, or of playing with a 
cloud, as oppressed by a powerful memory which beset him. 
Type of the present anglo-American, living for and by sen- 
sation, I found that Mr. Herman Melville had described him- 
self. Yet, I was content to hesitate, when chance brought 
me in contact with one of the worthiest citizens of the United 
States, a clever and instructed man, well versed in the intel- 
lectual affairs of his race. 

" Will you," said I, ^' tell me the true name of the singular 
writer who calls himself Herman Melville, and who has pub- 
lished Omoo and Typee ?" 

" You are," he replied, " much too subtile. You look for 
deceit everywhere. Mr. Herman Melville's name is Herman 
Melville. He is the son of one of our old secretaries of lega- 
tion at the Court of St. James. Fiery and ardent in his 
temperament, he early went to sea, and, as we say, followed 
the sea. Were he in the Navy, or in a privateer ; what ad- 
ventures marked his stormy and unclassical studies he only 
can tell ; and if you will visit Massachusetts, where he 
married and lives, I would recommend you to ask him. He 
is an athletic man, still young, naturally hardy and enterpris- 
insr ; one of those men all nerve and muscle, who love to 
struggle with wind and wave, men and seasons. He married 
the daughter of Judge Shaw, one of the most distinguished 
magistrates of New England, and now lives a calm, domestic 



126 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OP 

life, surrounded by a just and singular celebrity, which he 
accepts, although somewhat equivocal ; for he is regarded as 
a maker of clever, but useless fables. His family, who know 
that his adventures, as told by him, are true, are not flattered 
by the eulogium accorded to his imagination, at the expense 
of his morality. His cousin, with whom I passed last summer, 
said much about the obstinate refusal- of readers to believe in 
the truth of Ty pee and moo. Said he, 'my cousin writes 
very well, especially when he re-produces exactly what he has 
felt ; not having studied in the usual way, he preserves the 
freshness of his impressions. Tt is precisely because his 
young life was passed in the midst of savages, that he has an 
air of reality, and such brilliant colorina;. He could not in- 
vent the scenes which he describes. Charmed by his impro- 
vised reputation, he would be vexed, I think, to lose his 
reputation as an inventor. The re-appearance of his com- 
panion Toby or Richard Green, a real personage, annoyed 
him to some degree. It made him descend from the pedestal 
of a romance to the level of a mere narrator.' 

" For me, who know Melville, his wild disposition, and the 
history of his youth — who have actually read his rough noteSy 
now in the hands of his father-in-law, aud who have talked 
twenty times with Kichard Green, his Jidus Achates^ I laugh 
at the pre-occupation of a public accustomed to see a lie 
where no lie is, the truth where all is a lie. Read Typee 
again, I do not speak of Omoo, a pale second impression — 
read the first of these books, not as a romance, but as a simple 
picture of Polynesian manners. The new traveller is more 
truthful than Bougainville, who has changed the groves of 
Tahiti into Pompadour saloons ; than Diderot who takes the 
voluptuous narratives of Bougainville to embellish and color 
his sensual materialism ; than Ellis or Earle who busied 
themselves in justifying the English missionaries, and who 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE 12Y 

lack both strength and style. To be sure Melville's coloring 
is too violent, but that is not astonishing. At his age, when 
the first sap of life lends a passionate force to ideas, he must 
have received emotions, vivid, exaggerated, if you will, from 
the novelty of the scenes, the singularity of the perils. His 
style is exuberant ; his colors Rubens-like, and his predilec- 
tion for dramatic effect in bad taste. Nevertheless, there are 
as many romantic details in the old Spanish doctor, Saaverde 
de Figueroa, who first described these voluptuous isles. Like 
all his predecessors, Figueroa, Cook, Bougainville, Melville 
wrote under the power of an intoxication produced by the 
prestiges of Nature and the strangeness of customs. 



SECTION III. 

NEW VOYAGES OF MELVILLE OF HOW, NOT HAVING BEEN 

EATEN, HE THROWS HIMSELF INTO THE REGION OF CHIMERA. 
SYMBOLS. 

The real value of the two books aforesaid consists in the 
vivacity of their impressions, and the lightness of the pencil. 
Seduced by his first success, the author tried to write a new 
and singular book " Mardi, and a Voyage thither." Oppressed 
by the reputation of inventor which men had given him, he 
determined to merit it : he strove to exhibit all those treasures 
of imagination which were attributed to him. Let us see 
how he succeeded. 

In the first place, like a good merchant, not wishing to lose 
the credit that his first afikir in the isle of Tior had procured, 
he stuck to Polynesia — fault the first. Then he tried to be 



128 ORIGIN AND rROGRESS OF 

absolutely original — fault the second. Is one oriDjinal at 
will ? 

"We must not reproach the Americans with want of origin- 
ality in the arts ; originality is not to be commanded, and 
comes late ; nations and individuals begin by imitation. 
Originality is a quality of ripe minds, of such as know 
thoroughly their own depth and extent ; childhood is never orig- 
inal. This excessive pretention to novelty has, of course, ended 
in a mournful mixture of grotesque comedy and fantastic gran- 
deur, to be found in no other book. There is nothing so 
wretched as pomposity in what is vulgar, common-place in the 
unintelligible, an accumulation of catastrophes with emphat- 
ically slow description. These vagaries, ornaments, graces ; 
this flowery style, so festooned and scolloped, is like the ara- 
besques of certain writing masters, one cannot read the text. 

A humoristic book, a voyage without compass upon a 
limitless sea, is the rarest product of art : Sterne, Jean Paul, 
and Cervantes — men of genius — have alone succeeded. What 
study, reflection, toil, knowledge of style, what power of com- 
bination and progress of civilization was necessary to create 
Kabelais, Swift, Cervantes ! 

Mr. Melville begins with faery, to continue by romantic 
fiction and then essays symbolical irony. We are not aston- 
ished then that Mardi has all the defects of the infant Anglo- 
American literature. We observe the curious development of 
a nationality of the second creation ; and we must remember 
that there are diseases peculiar to growth, and that men and 
races do not develope themselves by their virtues alone but 
also by their vices. 

Americans, like all people who have not yet a personal 
literature, see vulgarity in simplicity. Hyperbole is the 
common ^dce of a commencing as of a decaying literature. 
To this is joined the incorrectness consequent upon too rapid 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 129 

labor. Mr. Melville does not use the English with wise ease 
like Longfellow, nor with somewhat timid grace like Bryant, 
another remarkable poet. He breaks vocables, upsets periods, 
creates unknown adjectives, invents absurd elipses, and com- 
poses unusual words, against the laws of the antique Anglo- 
Germanic tongue — " unshadow," " tireless," " fadeless," and 
other such monsters. 

Nevertheless, and in despite of an unheard-of style, the sea 
emotions are admirably given. Sometimes he represents it as 
a mighty but rebellious courser, conquered by industry, 
patience and knowledge : at other times as a Herculean Force 
which plays with man as the wind with a plume. 

The first part of Mardi, if we except the incessant efibrt of 
the author to be eloquent, ingenious, and original, is charm- 
ingly life-like. There is much interest and vigor in the 
maritime scenes, the pictures of calm and storm, and of the 
brigantine taken and abandoned. You hope for truthful or 
true adventures. Nothing like them. Hardly has the author 
entered those lagoons, where spring-time is eternal, and the 
night luminous as the day, when he renounces reality, and 
faery and somnambulism begin. 

A double bark, bearing on one of its prows a dais, covered 
with flowers and precious stuffs, and rowed by twelve Poly- 
nesians who seem to obey an old, white-bearded man, covered 
with ornaments, draws nigh. Our hero and his comrades go 
to meet it. A combat ensues ; the priest, who attacks Mel- 
ville and the others with fury, is killed ; his accolytes flee, 
and a young girl, hidden under the dais, fair as a European, 
transparent as mother-of-pearl, with eyes blue as an iris 
flower, becomes the prize of the travellers. It is a tulla^ or 
white maiden, such as are sometimes seen here ; her name is 
4-ylla ; the priest was carrying her, with great pomp, to a neigh- 
boring island, there to be sacrificed to the evil spirit. Melville 
6* 



]30 OKIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

is taken with Aylla, who has nothing to recommend her but 
her beauty ; you cannot imagine a heroine more insignificant, 
a divinity more insupportable. 

As well as the somnambulism of this portion will permit 
one to guess the intention of the author, Aylla is Human 
Happiness, sacrificed by the priests, for Melville has a lurking 
rancor against the clergy since the N. Y. Evangelist accused 
him of irreverence. 

Here begins the strange symbolical Odyssey — a clumsy 
imitation of Rabelais, and which will introduce us to a world 
of extravagant phantoms. 

Turn by turn, the adventurer visits the chiefs of the 
smaller islands, each of which has a signification. Barabolla 
the gourmand, is modern epicureanism ; Maranna is religion 
or superstition ; Donjalolo is the poetic world ; the antiquary 
Oh-oh, symbolizes learning. One chapter appears given to 
Spanish etiquette, another to Italian art, a third to French 
mobility. The Isle of Piminie is, I fancy, the gay world, 
whose society Mr. Melville satirizes in a way piquant enough. 

Young America mocks old Europe; nor do we object to 
receive from the young, precocious and robust child some 
lessons of which our decrepitude stands in need We play 
very mournful comedies ; but Mr. Melville is mistaken in his 
manner. What to us are the excursions of Melville, Sancoah, 
and Jarl ? What have we to do with King Prello and King 
Xipho, who represent feudalism and military glory ? 

At last a Queen Plautia (pleasure, we suppose,) deter- 
mined to carry ofi" Melville, with whom she has fallen in love ; 
sends him symbolical flowers, which he rejects, and so forth. 
Amid this chaos, the old theories of Holbach, the superannu- 
ated dogmata of Hegel, the pantheistic algebra of Spinosa, 
twist and jumble themselves into inextricable confusion. The 
philosophic common-places of the infidel school wear veils of 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 131 

many symbolical folds, and the author seems to fancy that 
be is yet very bold. 

The second volume is given to an obscure satire against 
European belief, and to pantheistic scepticism. Our travel- 
lers have lost Happiness, (Aylla) and will not accept Plea- 
sure (Hautia) as a compensation. So they leave Mardi, a 
cloud-land : — and so we pass from metaphysical symbolism to 
transparent Allegory. 

Mardi is the modern political world. We are curious to 
see how a republican of the United States will judge of 
present and future civilization, and how explain the obscure 
problem of our destinies. Let us pass the strange names 
given to modern countries. England is Dominora ; France, 
Franko ; Spain, Ibiria ; Rome, Romara ; Germany, Aps- 
burga ; Canada, Kaneda. This is too much like our 
Rabelais, so fertile in appellation, whose mere sound can pro- 
voke pantagruelic titillatiou. Mr. Melville is by no means a 
magician of this kind. He has good sense and sagacity, and 
wishes to be humorous. It is more difficult. 

The fantastic vessel bearing a poet, a philosopher, Mr. 
Melville and other fabulous persons, visits the shores of 
Europe or Porpheero — star of the morning ; and of America, 
or Vivenza, Land of Life. They visit Germany, England. 
Spain, Italy, France. The author speaks of Great Britain 
with a profound and filial respect, and of Ireland with a severe 
pity quite Anglo-Saxon. At last he sees France — just as the 
year 1848 is about to begin. 

" Gliding away from Yerdanna at the turn of the tide, we 
cleared the strait, and gaining the more open lagoon, 
pointed our prows for Porpheero, from whose magnificent 
monarchs my lord Media promised himself a glorious recep- 
tion. 

" ' They are one and all dcmi-gods,' he cried, ' and have 



132 OlilGIN A\D PROGRESS OF 

the old demi-god feeling. We have seen no great valleys 
like theirs : — their sceptres are long as our spears ; to their 
sumptuous palaces, Donjalolo's are hut inns : — their banquet- 
ing halls are as vistas ; no generations run parallel to theirs : 
— their pedigrees reach back into chaos. 

" ^ Babbalanja ! here you will find food for philosophy : — 
the whole land checkered with nations, side by side, contrast- 
ing in costume, manners, and mind. Here you will find 
science and sages ; manuscripts in miles ; bards singing in 
choirs. 

" * Mohi ! here you will flag over your page ; in Porpheero 
the ages have hived all their treasures : like a pyramid, the 
past shadows over the land. 

" '• Yoomy ! here you will find stufi" for your songs ; — blue 
rivers flowing through forest arches, and vineyards ; velvet 
meads, soft as ottomans ; bright maidens braiding the 
golden locks of the harvest ; and a background of moun- 
tains, that seem the end of the world. Or if nature will not 
content you, then turn to the landscapes of art. See ! mosaic 
walls, tattooed like our faces ; paintings, vast as horizons ; 
and into which, you feel you could rush : See ! statues to 
which you could off turban ; cities of columns standing thick 
as mankind ; and firmament domes forever shedding their 
sunsets of gilding : See ! spire behind spire, as if the land 
were the ocean, and all Bello's great navy were riding at 
anchor. 

" ' Noble Taji ! you seek for your Yillah ; give over de- 
spair ! Porpheero's such a scene of enchantment, that there, 
the lost maiden must lurk.' 

" ' A glorious picture !' cried Babbalanja, * but turn the 
medal, my lord ; — what sa3^s the reverse P 

" ' Cynic ! have done. — But bravo ! we'll ere long be in 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 133 

Franko, the goodliest vale of them all ; how I long to take her 
old king by the hand !' 

^' The sun was now sitting behind us, lighting up the white 
cliffs of Dominora, and the green capes of Verdanna ; while 
in deep shade lay before us the long winding shores of 
Porpheero. 

" It was a sunset serene. 

" ' How the winds lowly warble in the dying day's ear,' 
murmured Yoomy. 

" * A mild, bright night, we'll have,' said Media. 

" ' See you not those clouds over Franko, my lord,' said 
Mohi, shaking his head. 

" ' Ah, aged and weather-wise as ever, sir chronicler ; — I 
predict a fair night, and many to follow.' 

" ' Patience needs no prophet,' said Babbalanja. * The 
night is at hand.' 

" Hitherto the lagoon had been smooth : but anon, it grew 
black, and stirred ; and out of the thick darkness came clam- 
orous sounds. Soon, there shot into the air a vivid meteor, 
which bursting at the zenith, radiated down the firmament in 
fiery showers, leaving treble darkness behind. 

" Then, as all held their breath, from Franko there spouted 
an eruption, which seemed to plant all Mardi in the fore- 
ground. 

"As when Vesuvius lights her torch, and in the blaze, the 
storm-swept surges in Naples' bay rear and plunge toward it ; 
so now, showed Franko's multitudes, as they stormed the 
summit where their monarch's palace blazed, fast by the 
burning mountain. 

*' ' By my eternal throne !' cried Media, starting, ' the old 
volcano has burst forth again !' 

" ' But a new vent, my lord,' said Babbalanja. 

" * More fierce this, than the eruption which happened 



134 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

in my youth,' said Mohi — ' metkinks that Franko's end has 
come.' 

" ^ You look pale, my lord,' said Babbalanja, ^ while all 
other faces glow ; — Yoomy, doff that halo in the presence of 
a king.' 

" Over the waters came a rumbling sound, mixed with the 
din of warfare, and thwarted by showers of embers that fall 
not, for the whirling blasts. 

" ^ Off shore ! off shore !' cried Media ; and with all haste 
we gained a place of safety. 

" Down the valley now poured Rhines and Rhones of lava, 
a fire-freshet, flooding the forests from their fastnesses, and 
leaping with them into the seething sea. 

" The shore was lined with multitudes pushing off wildly in 
canoes. 

" Meantime, the fiery storm from Franko, kindled new 
flames in the distant valleys of Porpheero ; while driven over 
from Verdanna came frantic shouts, and direful jubilees. 
Upon Dominora a baleful glare was resting. 

" * Thrice cursed flames !' cried Media. ' Is Mardi to be 
one conflagration ? How it crackles, forks, and roars ! — Is 
this our funeral pyre .?' 

" ' Recline, recline, my lord,' said Babbalanja. * Fierce 
flames are ever brief — a song, sweet Yoomy ! Your pipe, 
old Mohi! Greater fires than this have ere now blazed 
in Mardi. Let us be calm ; — the isk-s were made to burn ; 
— Braid-Beard ! hereafter, in some quiet cell, of this whole 
scene you will but make one chapter ; — come, digest it now.' 

" ' My face is scorched,' cried Media. 

" * The last, last day ." cried Mohi. 

" ^ Not so, old man,' said Babbalanja, ^ when that day 
dawns, 'twill dawn serene. Be calm, be calm, my potent 
lord.' 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 135 

" ^ Talk not of calm brows in storm-time !' cried Media 
fiercely. ' See how the flames blow over upon Dominora !' 

" ' Yet the fires they kindle there are soon extinguished,' 
said Babbalanja. ' No, no ; Dominora ne'er can burn with 
Franko's fires ; only those of her own kindling may consume 
her.' 

" * Away ! Away !' cried Media. ^ We may not touch 
Porpheero now. — Up sails ! and westward be our course.' 

" So dead before the' blast, we scudded. 

" Morning broke, showing no sigu of land. 

" '• Hard must it go with Franko's king, said Media, 
^ when his people rise against him with the red volcanoes. 
Oh, for a foot to crush them ! Hard, too, with all who rule 
in broad Porpheero. And may she we seek, survive this 
conflagration !' 

" ' My lord,' said Babbalanja, ' where'er she hide, ne'er 
yet did Yillah lurk in this Porpheero ; nor have we missed the 
maiden, noble Taji ! in not touching at its shores.' 

" ' This fire must make a desert of the land,' said Mohi ; 
' burn up and bury all her tilth.' 

*' Yet, Mohi, vineyards flourish over buried villages,' mur- 
mured Yoomy. 

" ' True, minstrel,' said Babbalanja, ' and prairies are puri- 
fied by fire. Ashes breed loam. Nor can any skill make the 
same surface forever fruitful. In all times past, things have 
been overlaid ; and though the first fruits of the marl are 
wild and poisonous, the palms at last spring forth ; and once 
again the tribes repose in shade. My lord, if calms breed 
storms, so storms calms ; and all this dire commotion must 
eventuate in peace.' " 

The author talks very coolly of our wretchedness ; but his 
calm philosophy disappears when he sees America. 



136 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

Her bower is not of the vine, 
But the wild, wild eglantine ! 
Not climbing a moldering arch, 
But upheld by the fir-green larch. 

Old ruins she flies ; 

To new valleys she hies ; — 

Not the hoar, moss-wood, 

Ivied trees each a rood — 

Not in Maramma she dwells. 

Hollow with hermit cells. 

'Tis a new, new isle ! 
An infant's its smile. 

Soft-rocked by the sea. 
Its bloom all in bud ; 
No tide at its flood, 

In that fresh-born sea ! 

Spring ! Spring ! where she dwells 

In her sycamore dells. 

Where Mardi is young and new : 

Its verdure all eyes with dew. 

There, there ! in the bright, balmy morns, 

The young deer sprout their horns, 

Deep-tangied in new-branching groves, 

Where the Red-Rover Robin roves,— 

Stooping his crest, 
To his molting breast — 
Rekindling the flambeau there ! 
Spring ! Spring ! where she dwells, 
In her sycamore dells ; 
Where, fulflliing their fates. 
All creatures seek mates — 

The thrush, the doe, and the hare I 

This is a very fine lyric ; the poet is true in his own emo- 
tion, and in what he expresses. What will this America 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 137 

become, when each year such varied masses of men seek her 
shores to unite themselves to the Puritan and Calvinistic germ 
of the A.nglo-Saxon colonies ! What will be the genius of 
this new-born world ? 

It is a curious subject for speculation and conjecture. What 
may be said, is, that America has not yet reached her neces- 
sary development ; and that she will attain to proportions 
which will throw Europe into the shade. Europeans are too 
much disposed to think that their civilization contains both 
the Past and the Future of the world. The zones of light 
change ; the march of civilization is indubitable, and this up- 
ward progress alone is in conformity with the Divine Love. 

Mr. Melville predicts the transformation of the whole 
American Continent into a renewed Europe. 

" Canada," he says, " must become independent, like the 
United States. An event not desirable but inevitable. Great 
Britain cannot preserve all the nations which she protected 
and* fostered ; the eternal vicissitude of things render it 
impossible. The East peopled the West, which will one day 
re-people the East : 'tis the everlasting ebb and flow. Who 
can say, that from the shores of America, now scarce inha- 
bited, armies of young men will not one day go to regenerate 
deserted Europe, her ruined cities and her sterile fields." 

Despite this patriotism, Mr. Melville tells his fellow-citizens 
some truths, veiled it is true, yet worth hearing. 

" Sovereign-kings of Vivenza ! it is fit you should hearken 
to wisdom. But well aware, that you give ear to little wisdom 
except of your own ; and 4ihat as freemen, you are free to 
hunt down him who dissents from your majesties ; I deem it 
proper to address you anonymously. 

" And if it please, you may ascribe this voice to the gods : 
for never will you trace it to man. 

" It is not unknown, sovereign-kings ! that in these bolster- 



138 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

ous days, the lessons of history are ahiiost discarded, as 
superseded by present experiences. And that while Mr. 
Mardi's Present has grown out of its Past, it is becoming 
obsolete to refer to what has been. Yet, pei-adventure, the 
Past is an apostle. 

" The grand error of this age, sovereign-kings ! is the 
general supposition, that the very special Diabolus is abroad ; 
whereas, the very special Diabolus has been abroad ever since 
Mardi began. 

" And the grand error of your nation, sovereign-kings ! 
seems this : — The conceit that Mardi is now in the last scene 
of the last act of her drama ; and that all preceding events 
were ordained, to bring about the catastrophe you believe to 
be at hand,— a universal and permanent Hepublic. 

" May it please you, those who hold to these things are 
fools, and not wise. 

" Time is made up of various ages ; and each thinks its 
own a novelty. But imbedded in the walls of the pyramids, 
which outrun all chronologies, sculptured stones are found, 
belonging to ypt older fabrics. And as in the mound- 
building period of yore, so every age thinks its erections will 
forever endure. But as your forests grow apace, sovereign 
kings ! overrunning the tumuli in your western vales ; so, 
while deriving their substance from the past, succeeding 
generations overgrew it ; but in time, themselves decay. 

" Oro decrees these vicissitudes. 

" In chronicles of old, you read, sovereign-kings ! that an 
eagle from the clouds presaged royalty to the fugitive 
Taquinoo ; and a king, Taquinoo reigned ; No end to my 
dynasty, thought he. 

" But another omen descended, foreshadowing the fall of 
Zooperbi, his son ; and Zooperbi returning from his camp, 
found his country a fortress against him. No more kings 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 189 

would she have. And for five hundred twelve-moons the 
iiegifugiuin or King's-flight, was annually celebrated like 
your own jubilee day. And rampant young orators stormed 
out destestation of kings ; and augurs swore that their birds 
presaged immortality to freedom. 

" Then, Romara's free eagles flew over all Mardi, and 
perched on the topmost diadems of the east. 

" Ever thus must it be. 

^' For, mostly, monarchs are as gemmed bridles upon the 
world, checking the plungings of a steed from the Pampas. 
And republics are as vast reservoirs, draining down all 
streams to one level ; and so, breeding a fulness which can 
not remain full, without overflowing. And thus, Romara 
flooded all Mardi, till scarce an Ararat was left of the lofty 
kingdoms which had been. 

" Thus, also, did Franko, fifty twelve-moons ago. Thus 
may she do again. And though not yet, have you, sovereign- 
kings ! in any large degree done likewise, it is because you 
overflow your redundancies within your own mighty borders ; 
having a wild western waste, which many shepherds with 
their flocks could not overrun in a day. Yet overrun at 
last it will be ; and then, the recoil must come. 

" And, may it please you, that thus far your chroniclea 
had narrated a very difibrent story, had your population 
been pressed and packed, like that of your old sire-land 
Dominora. Then, your great experiment might have proved 
an explosion ; like the chemist's who, stirring his mixture, 
was blown by it into the air. 

" For though crossed, and recrossed by many brave quar- 
terings, and boasting the great Bull in your pedigree ; yet, 
sovereign-kings ! you are not meditative philosophers like 
the people of a small republic of old ; nor enduring stoics, 
like their neighbors. Pent up, like them, may it please 



140 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

you, your thirteen original tribes have proved more turbulent, 
than so many mutinous legions. Free horses need wide 
prairies ; and fortunate for you, sovereign-kings I that you 
have room enough, wherein to be free. 

" And, may it please you, you are free, partly, because you 
are young. Tour nation is like a fine, florid youth, full of 
fiery impulses, and hard to restrain ; his strong hand nobly 
championing his heart. On all sides, freely he gives, and 
still seeks to acquire. The breath of his nostrils is like 
smoke in spring air ; every tendon is electric with generous 
resolves. The oppressor he defies to his beard ; the high 
walls of old opinions he scales with a bound. In the future 
he sees all the domes of the East. 

^' But years elapse, and this bold boy is transformed. His 
eyes open not as of yore ; his heart is shut up as a vice. He 
yields not a groat ; and seeking no more acquisitions, is only 
bent on preserving his hoard. The maxims once trampled 
under foot, are now printed on his front; and he who hated 
oppressors, is become an oppressor himself. 

'* Thus, often, with men ; thus, often, with nations. Then 
marvel not, sovereign-kings ! that old states are difi"erent 
from yours ; and think not, your own must forever remain 
liberal as now. 

" Each age thinks its own is eternal. But though for five 
hundred twelve-moons, all Romara, by courtesy of history, 
was republican ; yet, at last, her terrible king-tigers came, 
and spotted themselves with gore. 

" And time was, when Dominora was republican, down to 
her sturdy back-bone. The son of an absolute monarch 
became the man Karolus ; and his crown and head, both 
rolled in the dust. And Dominora had her patriots by thou- 
sands J and lusty Defenses, and glorious Areopagiticas were 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 141 

written, not since surpassed ; and no turban was doffed save 
in homage of Oro. 

" Yet, may it please you, to" the sound of pipe and tabor, 
the second King Karolus returned in good time ; and was 
hailed gracious majesty by high and low. 

" Throughout all eternity, the parts of the past are but 
parts of the future reversed. In the old foot-prints, up and 
down, you mortals go, eternally travelling to Sierras. And 
not more infallible the ponderings of the Calculating Machine 
than the deductions from the decimals of history. 

" In nations, sovereign-kings ! there is a transmigration of 
souls ; in you, is a marvelous destiny. The eagle of Ro- 
mara revives in your own mountain bird, and once more is 
plum.ed for her flight. Her screams are answered by the 
vauntful cries of a hawk : his red comb yet reeking with 
slaughter. And one East, one West, those bold birds may 
fly, till they lock pinions in the midmost beyond. 

" But, soaring in the sky over the nations that shall gather 
their broods under their wings, that bloody hawk may here- 
after be taken for the eagle. 

" And though crimson republics may rise in constellations, 
like fiery Aldebarans, speeding to their culminations ; yet, 
down must they sink at last, and leave the old sultan- sun 
in the sky ; in time, again to be deposed. 

" For little longer, may it please you, can republics subsist 
now, than in days gone by. For, assuming that Mardi is 
wiser than of old ; nevertheless, though all men approached 
sages in intelligence, some would yet be more wise than 
others ; and so, the old degrees be preserved. And no ex- 
emption would an equality of knowledge furnish, from the 
inbred servility of mortal to mortal ; from all the organic 
causes, which inevitably divide mankind into brigades and 
battalions, with captains at their head. 



142 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

" Civilization has not ever been the brother of equality. 
Freedom was born among the wild eyries in the mountains ; 
and barbarous tribes have sheltered under her wings, when 
the enlightened people of tho plain have nestled under differ- 
ent pinions. 

" Though, thus far, for you, sovereign-kings ! your repub- 
lic has been fruitful of blessings ; yet, in themselves, 
monarchies are not utterly evil. For many nations, they are 
better than republics ; for many, they will ever so remain. 
And better, on all hands, that peace should rule with a 
sceptre, than that the tribunes of the people should brandish 
their broadswords. Better be the subject of a king, upright 
and just, than a freeman in Franko, with the executioner's 
axe at every corner. 

" It is not the prime end, and chief blessing, to be politi- 
cally free. And freedom is only good as a means ; is no 
end in itself. Nor, did man fight it out against his masters 
to the haft, not then, would he uncollar his neck from the 
yoke. A born thrall to the last, yelping out his liberty, he 
still remains a slave unto Oro ; and well is it for the universe, 
that Ore's sceptre is absolute. 

" World-old the saying, that it is easier to govern others, 
than oneself And that all men should govern themselves 
as nations, needs that all men be better, and wiser, than the 
■wisest of one-man rulers. But in no stable democracy do all 
men govern themselves. Though an army be all volunteers, 
martial law must prevail. Delegate your power, you leagued 
mortals must. The hazard you must stand. And though 
unlike King Bello of Dominora, your great chieftain, sove- 
reign-kings ! may not declare war of himself; nevertheless, 
has he done a still more imperial thing : — gone to war without 
declaring intentions. You yourselves were precipitated upon 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 143 

a neighboring nation, ere you knew your spears were in your 
hands. 

" But, as in stars you have written it on the welkin, 
sovereign-kings ! you are a great and glorious people. And 
verily, yours is the best and happiest land under the sun. 
But not wholly, because you, in your wisdom, decreed it : 
your origin and geography necessitated it. Nor, in their 
germ, are all your blessings to be ascribed to the noble sires, 
who of yore fought in your behalf, sovereign-kings ! Your 
nation enjoyed no little independence before your Declaration 
declared it. Your ancient pilgrims fathered your liberty ; 
and your wild woods harbored the nursling. For the state 
that to-day is made up of slaves, can not to-morrow trans- 
mute her bond into free ; though lawlessness may trans- 
form them into brutes. Freedom is the name for a thing 
that is not freedom ; this, a lesson never learned in an hour 
or an age. By some tribes it will never be learned. 

" Yet, if it please you, there may be such a thing as being 
free under Caesar. Ages ago, there were as many vital free- 
men, as breathe vital air to-day. 

•' Names make not distinctions ; some despots rule without 
swaying sceptres. Though King Bello's palace was not put 
together by yoked men ; your federal temple of freedom, 
sovereign-kings ! was the handiwork of slaves. 

" It is not gildings, and gold maces, and crown-jewels alone, 
that make a people servile. There is much bowing and 
cringing among you yourselves, sovereign-kings ! Poverty is 
abased before riches, all Mardi over ; any where, it is hard 
to be a debtor ; any where, the wise will lord it over fools ; 
every where, suffering is found. 

" Thus, freedom is more social than political. And its 
real felicity is not to be shared. T/iat is of a man's own 



144 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

individual getting and holding. It is not, who rules the 
state, but who rules me. Better be secure under one king, 
than exposed to violence from twenty millions of monarchs, 
though oneself be of the number. 

" But superstitious notions you harbor, sovereign-kings ! 
Did you visit Dominora, you would not be marched straight 
into a dungeon. And though you would behold sundry 
sights disj^leasing, you would start to inhale such liberal 
breezes ; and hear crowds boasting of their privileges ; as 
you, of yours. Nor has the wine of Dominora a monarchical 
flavor. 

" Now, though far and wide, to keep equal pace with the 
times, great reforms of a verity, be needed ; no where are 
bloody revolutions required. Though it be the most certain 
of remedies, no prudent invalid opens his veins, to let out 
his disease with his life. And though all evils may be 
assuaged ; all evils can not be done away. For evil is the 
chronic malady of the universe ; and checked in one place, 
breaks forth in another, 

" Of late, on this head, some wild dreams have departed. 

" There are many, who erewhile believed that the age of 
pikes and javelins was passed ; that after a heady and blus- 
tering youth, old Mardi was at last settling down into a serene 
old age; and that the Indian summer, first discovered in 
your land, sovereign-kings ! was the hazy vapor emitted from 
its tranquil pipe. But it has not so proved. Mardi's peaces 
are but truces. Long absent, at last the red comets have 
returned. And return they must, though their periods be 
ages. And should Mardi endure till mountain melt into 
mountain, and all the isles form one table-land ; yet, would it 
but expand the old battle-plain. 

" Students of history are horror-struck at the massacres of 
old ; but in the shambles, men are being murdered to-day. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 145 

Could time be reversed, and the future change places with 
the past, the past would cry out against us and our future, 
full as loudly, as we against the ages foregone. All the Ages 
are his children, calling each other names. 

" Hark ye, sovereign-kings ! cheer not on the yelping 
pack too furiously. Hunters have been torn by their hounds. 
Be advised ; wash yom* hands. Hold aloof. Oro has poured 
out an ocean for an everlasting barrier between you and 
the worst folly which other republics have perpetrated. 
That barrier hold sacred. And swear never to cross over to 
Porpheero, by manifesto or army, unless you traverse dry 
land. 

" And be not too grasping nearer home. It is not freedom 
to filch. Expand not your area too widely, now. Seek you 
proselytes } Neighboring nations may be free, without 
coming under your banner. And if you can not lay your 
ambition, know thi^ : that it is best served, by waiting 
events. 

" Time, but Time only, may enable you to cross the 
equator ; and give you the Arctic Circles for your boun- 
daries." 

When Mr. Melville has well visited and criticised Europe 
and America, he goes back to the metaphysical cloud-land, 
where he admires, without being able to inhabit the realms of 
Alma, and Serenia (Christ and His Kingdom.) Ay 11a, or 
Human Happiness, is lost forever : Mr. Melville is resigned to 
do without her. 

Such is the colossal machine invented by Mr. Herman 
IMelville. It is not unlike the gigantic American Panorama, 
thus advertised on the London walls. 

*' Gigantic, original American Panorama. In the 
great American saloon^ can he seen the prodigious moving 
7 



146 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. 

Panorama of the Gulf of Mexico^ the Falls of St. Anthony 
and the Mississippi, painted by J. R. Smith, the great Amer- 
ican artist, covering four miles of canvass, and representing 
iieaHy four thousand miles of American Landscape. 



CHAPTER lY. 

AMERICANS IN EUROPE-EUROPEANS IN THE UTsTITED 
STATES. 



SECTION I. 

ANGLO-AMERICAN TRAVELLERS. 

Many citizens of the United States have visited Europe 
and communicated their reflections to the public. Willis has 
pven his " Pencillings by the Way ;" Cooper, his " Recol- 
lections of Europe : England, Italy, Excursions in Switzer- 
land, Residence in France, Homeward Bound;" six volumes 
of criticism, or rather of prejudice. We have Sanderson's 
" American in Paris," and " Sketches of Paris ;" J. D. 
Franklin's " Letters from Paris ;" C. S. Stewart's " Sketches 
of Society in Great Britain." 

Willis has spirit and fun, without good taste or good breed- 
ing : Cooper has bad humor changed into philosophy. The 
rest are not above mediocrity. 

Americans have written a good deal about their own coun- 
try ; Cooper, whose " Democrat" greatly irritated his fellow- 
citizens ; Channing, eloquent adversary of Slavery ; George 
Waterton and Nicholas Biddle Van Zandt, good editors of 
Statistic Tables ; the author of " A Voice from America," a 



148 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

pamphlet remarkable for the justice and courage of its ideas ; 
Sanderson, author of "America;" Jack Downing's Letters, 
by Davis, a raillery at the political manners of the Union ; 
Washington Irving ; James Hall's " Sketches of the West ;" 
*' Dr. Reid's Tour ;" and above all, Audubon, painter of the 
immense forests and their inhabitants. Three Germans, 
Prince Puckler Muskau, F. Lieber and J. Grrundt follow, 
the work of the last, as badly composed as written, tries to 
prove the reign of Aristocracy in the United States. 

As for the English who have visited the United States to 
growl or mock, their name is legion. Mrs. TroUoppe, Fanny 
Kemble, Tyrone Power, Basil Hall, Hamilton, Miss Martin- 
eau, Marryatt, and Dickens, who has printed his voyage 
under the title "Notes for general circulation." 

These works, so various, written with intolerable diffusion 
and carelessness, full of the pre-occupations and interests of 
their authors, compose one side of the process now pleading 
between the old and new civilization ; between feudal Europe, 
who is losing her Past, and the United States, which have not 
yet gained their Future. Every year, fresh British travellers 
cross the ocean, to see the progress of their grand-children. 
These latter, in their turn, pass the Atlantic, when they can 
get leisure from their speculations, clearings, or bankruptcies, 
look closely at their old mother, and hope to avenge them- 
selves on her, and to find in her, faults, vices and absurdities. 
Each does his work. The aristocrats try to prove that the 
democracy is vicious and vice versa : the young vainly battles 
with the old ; Marryatt, Hall, Martineau, Trolloppe, Dickens, 
have fired upon Americans ; Cooper, AYillis, and others return 
it. Irving, the man of taste, treats his English fathers with 
filial kindness. 

Thanks to these sixty odd volumes, one can see America 
\tithout going there, without quitting one's fireside. We 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 149 

borrow the spectacles of twenty people from different nations, 
Americans included. We listen, without taking all for 
Grospel, and we compare the reports. How can any phase of 
North America escape you, helped as you are by a Grermau 
doctor, a Swedish diplomatist, an American novelist, a priest, 
a his±Qi-iau, a writer of statistics, not to mention a lady novel- 
list, a sailor, a cavalry Captain, a writer on manners and a 
playwright. Points of view, epochs and localities are all 
diverse. The cleverest of all these, Charles Dickens, does 
not pique himself upon his philosophy or eloquence ; he is 
gay and funny. He brought back from his travels a dozen 
of sketches, done with rapid pencil, without bad humor or 
pretension. Compare his sketches with the bitter caricature 
of Mrs. Trolloppe ; the clumsy justifications of Miss Martin- 
eau, and the caustic accusations of Marryatt, who was hung 
in effigy by his hosts, and who in revenge has skinned and 
crucified them in his book, and you will obtain a curious 
result. This way of verifying the history of nations and of 
facts has always appeared to me infallible. Rectify one by 
the other, and you will get right ; balance contradictory opin- 
ions and you will arrive at the truth. Amid these violent 
contradictions all the facts which continue to exist, are sure. 

Nothing shows more clearly the bottom of the American 
character, and the social condition of the Union, than the 
singular aspect which our European countries present to 
these travellers of the United States, and their manner of 
judging us. They have incredible admirations, and unreason- 
able angers. They fall on their knees before a Vaudeville, 
and take no notice either of our great events or of our great 
men. The most distinguished member of this still swaddled 
society, scarcely comprehends the social phoenix of our world, 
which, since 1790, writhes upon its pyre, hoping one day to 
be born again. Willis, in England, watches how people eat ; 



150 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

Fennimore Cooper, in France, observes the manner of giving 
one's arm to a lady. This childishness provokes a smile ; we 
fancy that it is a little girl, playing with the jewels, patch- 
box and toilette of her great-grandmother, without understand- 
ing them. 

Fennimore Coopers blindness in the midst of our emeutes, 
is singular. He sees only the Garde Nationale running about 
the streets, and the boys who shout. He is especially pJeas- 
ant, when, after having painted the emeute in very amiable 
colors, and after being caught by it in the streets of Paris, he 
puts himself under the protection of a body-guard and 
exclaims, ^' For once in my life, I have thought the juste- 
milieu the best." We know Cooper's talent for narration, 
and we supposed that so picturesque a story-teller, should 
have found in Paris, in 1830, materials worthy of his pen. 
No ; this observer passed 1830, 1831, 1832, the years of the 
cholera and of St. Mery, among us, without seeing anything. 
This happened to Mr. Cooper. One is frightened by this 
absence of observation in a man of genius, who can not see. 
Dickens, a man of charming sagacity and good humor, at 
least amuses and distracts us, when he speaks of the States, 
but Cooper at Paris, remarking only that the Tuilleries were 
built by Catharine di Medicis, and that a National Gruard who 
passes him has a big corporation, afflicts us : of what use his 
talent and his glory ! 

Cooper, in revenge makes curious revelations about his 
native land. He alleges facts whose future value and impor- 
tance are enormous. He values at 500,000, the annual 
increase of population, comprising emigration. One single 
State already is more thickly peopled than the kingdoms of 
Hanover, Wirtemburg and Denmark. Dissertations on the 
soujpe au laity on its identity with the pap given to infants ; 
on casements and their origin ; on Parisian gardens, and the 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 151 

good boif'geois wlio like to dine in them ; this is what he has 
gathered in our world so old, so filled with young desires, this 
reservoir of mutually destructive ambitions, and of follies 
which betray wisdom — in Paris. 

His political opinions and precepts are marked with a 
stamp peculiar and often profound. He wrote, in 1835, that 
the best government for France would be Henri V., at the 
head of a republic. An absolute monarch, son of absolute 
monarchs, commanding an all-powerful democracy, did not 
astonish him. One night, at the Tuilleries, during the fire- 
works, he met an old man who predicted that the revolution 
would recommence in 1840 ; it recommenced, or rather con- 
tinued in 1848. 

Another day he fell into raptures about a negro, a spy by 
trade, whom he found in an anti-chamber, dignified by the 
double virtue of blacking boots, and of having lied all his life. 
Some people love fraud for fraud's sake, and such was this 
negro, yet Cooper praises him highly, so much are his notions 
of probity altered by his political opinions. Harris had served 
as double spy, for the English under Cornwallis, for the 
Americans under the Marquis de Lafayette. When Corn- 
wallis surrendered, he found in his conqueror's anti-chamber, 
on paying a visit there, this nigger traitor cleaning the boots 
of the Marquis. 

" Bah," cried the British Greneral," is it you, Harris ! I 
did not expect to find you here !" 

''Oh," said the spy, "one must do something for one's 
country." 

And this false nigger, who had no other country than 
the purse of the two adversaries, nor patriotism than his 
shameful cupidity, has probably served as model for Cooper's 
Spy. 

To read eight or ten American travellers in Europe is 



102 t)UI(ilN AND riKXiUKSW OF 

ritlxM- |)i(|u:int for ;i l-'rcnclinKin. 'V]\o. a])siir(lity of onr pro- 
tonsioiiv^, the illogical ttluiractcr of our liabils and iiianncrs 
seldom escape tliom. Ooopor has well remarked in France 
tliat dangerous inixiuro of fai-ts resulting from old despotism, 
and laws or desires born of young democracy. " Centralise 
is to despotisc," said Napoleon after Louis XTV^. " Indivi- 
dualise and scatter," says the liberty of the journals, and 
the books repeat it. Absurd union of contradictory terms ! 
A government is not a juxtaposition of contraries, but a 
f(>rtile strife of interests, each of wliieh yii'lds a little in order 
tt) gain more. Tn Fran(!e, the habits come from extr(nne 
servitude ; they tend towards extreme liberty. 

Our old world, in its struggle to grow young again, 
necessarily resembles, at least in intention, that young and 
scarcely formed world, which desires to aid it. The Franco 
of IMirabeau and Voltaire strives to identify itself with tho 
new republic made by Washington and Locke. We coincide 
in several points with this now, strange creation, born of 
English Puritanism, a democratic egg, laid in the world in 
tho seventeenth century, and hatched in the eighteenth, by 
Voltarian philosophy. You must read the sixty travcdlers 
among whom I have named the chief, to recognise how much 
of actual Franco there is in North America, how much of tho 
United States in Franco. They start from the same prin- 
ciple, march towards the same goal ; believe in the equality 
of men, which is dangerous, and in the natural goodness of 
man, as if he had neither passions nor inter(\sts, which is 
madness. They regard material and industrial labor as an 
all-sufficient panacea — which is false. 

But, at least, this exclusive preponderance of industry and 
commerce, dangerous for advanced states, is beneficial to the 
United States. North America is not yet a country, it is a 
sketch ; nor a government, but a trial ; nor a people, but a 



TJTERATIJRE AND ELOQURNCK. 163 

thousand pooples. TLerc, to the cje of tlie philosopher, all 
i.s trarisforiiicd, like the subHtances mixed ia a vane wlien tho 
cherni.st's eyes watches and sees tho change. This civiliza- 
tion wliich d'jvelopes itself on so enormous a scale, merits an 
attentive contemplation. It is not yet f;xr advanced ; tho 
laboratory is a hizarre as vast, and no philosopher could find 
a worthier subject. 



SECTIOxV II. 

ENGLISH TRAVELLERS INT AMERICA. 

Unfortunately, the majority of vinitors to the Staf.es are 
not philosophers. Mrs. I^utler, a distinguished and clever 
actress, describes very well the singularity of manners, and 
tlie vivid impressions pro'lueed by the great landscape upon 
a sensitive and feminine mind. Captain Hamilton appreciates 
nicely the diplomatic relations and political tendencies of the 
TJni'm. The German Prince, J*ucklcr Muskau, is light like 
a JJutchman who tries to be light, i. e., too much so. The 
other (ierman, Grundt, a sort of paradoxical doctor, mixes 
up all ideas Into a confused asseml-jlage of European souvenirs 
and philosopliic affectations. Audubon, the poet and the 
friend of birds, bothers himself little about men, cities, or 
villages. Miss Martineau, quitting England with a firm 
resolution to admire the States, according to the laws of 
aesthetics and political economy, is quite surprised at being 
obliged to moderate her admiration ; and the shadows of 
involuntary blame, which her preconceived enthusiasm, pro- 
duce an amusing effect. Marryatt, bringing to tlif; New 
7* 



154 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

World his English prejudices, avenges himself by epigrams 
for the ennui he feels in the land of material ameliorations. 
Dickens takes his part bravely ; and his amiable pleasantry 
shows a graceful light upon some particulars of private life in 
America. 

Tyrone Power is an actor. His style is vivid, supple, easy, 
hazardous and discursive as that of a mimic who runs over 
the world. He has seen the Americans in their best light, 
and he judges them with the most sympathetic indulgence ; 
they applauded him, he likes them for it. Nobody is more 
democratic than an actor. The habitude of a crowd : the 
subservience to the mass, the apparent worship which bends 
the knee of the noblest and worthiest — of Talma, Garrick, 
Kemble, are all essentially democratic. You must oppose 
Power to Hall and Marryatt to learn the merits and qualities 
of the citizens of America, generally too severely judged by 
the English. 

Captain Basil Hall is of that race, now perishing in Eng- 
land, which could only be produced on an island, and which 
we see in the earliest British civilization ; a race which loves 
to see for the mere pleasure of seeing, to " see-sights," an 
exclusively English expression. " Since my infancy," said 
the Captain, " I determined to see certain curiosities, and I 
have seen them." These curiosities were Japan, America, 
Egypt, and Polynesia. If all have badly understood and so 
superficially judged the United States, at least the parallel 
study of their narratives is important, they contradict and so 
explain one another. 

The democratic element, detaching itself from the other 
elements of the British Constitution, took refuge in the 
17th century in America. There, it does its work alone, 
and exhibits the singular spectacle at which we are looking. 
As the same element, in the 18th century, became extrava- 



LITEUATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 155 

gant in France and produced moral effects by wTiicli we are 
still governed, it happened that on two sides of the Atlantic, 
the country of Franklin and that of Mirabcau and Camille 
Desmoulins walked in the same road. How can America 
not insult England? She represents the puritan, rebellious, 
democratic portion, which would not live at peace with the 
British aristocracy How could France help becoming 
fevered by hatred and ancient vengeance ? She represents 
the Third estate, so long time in servitude, and now triumph- 
ant with a heart full of bitterest gall. The American Demo- 
racy must cross the ocean to confront the old enemy ; France 
need not go so far. In many things, especially in the least 
worthy, the two countries are alike. 

The most of our defects are American. In that country as 
in ours words are large and phrases grandiloquent. We call 
an apothecary a pkarmacien ; we have no more grocers, but in 
gilt letters on a red sign, we read " Universal Commerce of 
Colonial Products." The Americans, like us have two or 
three thousand men of genius in prose and verse ; they speak 
proudly of their three hundred best poets. They despise, insult 
and manage each other as we do, like us they mutually fear 
and compliment each other. They have the inconveniences 
as well as the advantages of democracy of which they have 
too the reality— what for them is a cradle will be for us a 
tomb, if we be not careful. 

There are some singular resemblances in pronunciation. 
The English say tchivalry, the French, chevalerie, the Ameri- 
cans shivalry. The identity of results prove that the identity 
of institutions merits close observation. Tyrone Power ar- 
rived at New York, fancied himself on some unknown portion 
of the Boulevard. All that we fear for France manifests 
itself already, in North America ; levelling of capacities ; 
rei«m of money; boasting; deterioration of products to 



156 ORIGIN AND PF0GRE6S OF 

remedy deterioration of price ; neglect of women, honored 
and set aside ; habit of doing nothing for the future ; improv- 
isation, rapidity, lightness ; singular vices, which you would 
not have believed possible in a Saxon people, but the influ- 
ence of political institutions is inevitable. 

Between America and us is all the distance which separates 
extreme youth from extreme age. We are embarrassed by 
our Past, the Americans because they have none. We sweep 
clean our ruins, they dig foundations in a virgin soil. Our 
history is a drama, ever growing more complicated, with its 
numberless springs. America is a prologue. We have too 
many souvenirs and acquisitions ; there is something provis- 
ional and incomplete in that immense and ever active fabric 
called the United States ; for it is so much a work-shop, a 
furnace, a laboratory for the future manufacture of a yet 
unknown civilization ; so little a finished country, complete, 
possessing all the results of definitive societies, that no sooner 
have they made a fortune there, than they come to enjoy it 
in Europe. Sanderson reproaches the elite of his fellow-citi- 
zens with their taste for Europe, " where it became daily 
more and more the habit to go and live." The Americans 
could reply that that preparatory and restless life, that exist- 
ence of harassed and wandering artisan, that breathless race 
after fortune and enterprize, offer few charms to the philoso- 
pher, few leisures to the meditative man. A society in its 
infancy marches much and blunderingly, loves action and 
exercise for themselves, eats and goes rapidly, knows no 
Past, nor knows how to educate women, give them their 
place, elevate their minds, refine their manners. 

Thus North America is plunged in admiration before the 
sex, admiration without discernment, instinct rather than 
preference. This position of women in America has greatly 
occupied travellers. They are honored and isolated ; amiable 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 15Y 

and without influence ; read much and have few ideas — even 
Miss Martineau cannot explain this snigma. 



SECTION III. 

JUDGMENT OF ENGLISH TRAVELLERS IN AMERICA WOMAN 

BLUE LAWS PURITAN AUSTERITY JUDICIARY ANECDOTES. 

The condition of woman is, in every country, the certain 
sign of the degree of civilization to which that country has 
arrived. Woman is nothing to the savage ; a slave at the 
outset of civilization, she acquires her rights and her value, as 
she passes the successive degrees, which eflface the tyranny of 
physical force and give supremacy to the intellectual. Not to 
crush the feebler being ; to give her her share of the sun- 
light, to recognize her privileges and assign her an influence, 
is the symptom of a highly-perfected society which recognizes 
that the law of the body is the law of the brute. There 
comes a moment when civilization is ruined by excess, 
degrades itself by over-refinement, till one is not content to 
protect the feeble creature, but teaches her to make up for 
her feebleness by voluptuousness. This epoch of gallantry 
and decadence attains, at last, the same result as the savao-e 
life, to wit, degradation of woman, promiscuous mingling of 
the sexes, and confusion of duties. The beautiful time, the 
sane and glorious epoch, is when, according to the condition 
of each society, everything takes its natural place ; when the 
woman is no more a mere nurse or slave, or faithful guardian 



158 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

of the house ; when she is not yet transformed into the 
arbiter of temporary folly, or distributor of the world's favor. 
In our day she has wanted more ; she has asked for her feeble 
hands the plough, the sword, the axe, the helm of the vessel, 
the port-folio of the minister, and the painful government of 
society. 

That powerful sketch of civilization, which is called North 
America, gives to woman an intermediate position. There 
she tries vainly to imitate the aristocratic manners of Europe, 
to acquire the elegance, the recherche^ the Ion ton^ to which 
old society is accustomed — unsuccessful imitation ! A young 
and mercantile society has only the time to dispose of its 
bales of cotton, and to clear its forests.* ' 

America must wait. When she has time, she will create a 
literature and arts, and the woman of the world, exquisite and 
singular production of an extreme civilization, will at last ap- 
pear. Men have a great deal to say against the lazy, the un- 
productive, the men of leisure. Without this leisure, without 
this laziness, there can be no poetry, nor style, nor art, nor 
elegance, nor even meditation and thought. These jQowers 
blow only in perfect abstraction from material cares. 

I may affirm, that the grand artistic beauty of Greek civil- 
ization, developed itself with so much force and eclat, with 
such fertile and easy splendor, only because of the leisure of 
Epaminondas, and Socrates and Plato, and Praxiteles — they 
were gentlemen. All the material and inferior part of life 
was for their slaves to take care of; they were to grind or 
weave ; the business of the masters was to become great men, 
brilliant writers, sublime artists. In spite of the law of 
Polytheism, which made the woman the first slave, one saw 
Aspasia and Sappho appear in the bosom of tli's singular 

^ See last chapter in this work. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 159 

civilization of which we have no idea, and share the crown of 
Pindar, of Anacreon, of Tyrtceus. 

Present America, born of the Christian element, has 
reached a much higher pitch of civilization ; but compara- 
tively speaking, she is not nearly so far advanced as antique 
Greece. Miss Martineau, philosophical woman, who hoped 'to 
find in America the paradise of philosophy, and republican 
independence, was very much astonished to see in how narrow 
a circle the Americans evibark and enclose feminine force and 
intellect. 

The anglo- American colonies had not the chivalric Catholic 
spirit to start from, a spirit favorable to woman ; but the 
Calvinistic spirit, profoundedly rigid, and governed by the 
terror of the dogma of predestination. The honoring of the 
Virgin Mary was renounced ; separation of the sexes became 
a law. This inhuman rigidity of the Calvinistic belief has not 
yet lost all its influence — it has left profound traces in Con- 
necticut. Theatres are not tolerated there. In 1840, an 
equestrian troupe were obliged to halt on the borders of the 
State, after having played in the neighboring provinces. The 
Government of Connecticut sent them the useful and frank 
notice, not to hazard themselves within the limits of the 
State, if they would not expose themselves to the confiscation 
of their horses. The neighboring inhabitants do not lose 
the opportunity of saying, that the severity of Connecticut is 
pure hypocrisy, and that its people are secretly addicted to 
the most odious vices. 

The fundamental and creative spirit of the United States, 
modified since its commencement by the more tolerant philo- 
sophy of Locke, is only to be found in that old Puritan code 
called the hliie laws, but which should have been named the 
hlack laws. " If," says the 13th chapter of this Draconian 
code, " a child, or children above the age of sixteen, and pos- 



160 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

sessing intelligence, strike, or curse their father or mother, 
they shall be put to death, according to Exodus xxi. 17, and 
Levit. XX." " If," says chapter xiv., " there be a jon rebel- 
lious and stubborn, of competent age and intelligence, who 
harkeneth not to the voice of his mother, his parents shall lay 
hands upon him, carry him before the judge, proving that he 
is stiffnecked, stubborn, and rebellious, and yieldeth not to 
their voice, nor to their chastisements, but liveth in sin- 
then that son shall be put to death." 

Lying is punished with stripes, blasphemy with the pillory ; 
and the use of tobacco is rigidly prohibited. ^' No man shall 
use tobacco, without having exhibited to the magistrate, a 
certificate signed by a physician, setting forth that the use of 
tobacco is necessary for him. Then he shall receive a license 
and may smojke. It is forbidden to all inhabitants of this 
colony to use tobacco upon the highways, etc., etc." Ex- 
tracts from the judicial records, at the period when the blue 
laws, were in vogue, offer more comical details, and are of so 
indecent a prudery that our pen refuses to reproduce more 
than an idea of these incredible details. 

In 1660, during the brilliant reign of Louis XIV., 
and the debauched reign of Charles II., was registered 
thus : 

" May 1st, 1660, — Jacob Macmurline and Sarah Tuttle 
were called before the court for the following reasons: Oa 
the marriage day of John Potter, Sarah Tuttle visited Mrs. 
Macmurline to ask for some thread. Mrs. M., sent her into 
the room of her daughters, where she found John Potter and 
his wife, both of whom were lame, and in spaaking to them 
she made use of very improper expressions. Then came in 
Jacob Potter, brother of John Potter, and Sarah Tuttle 
having let fall her gloves, Jacob picked them up. Sarah 
asking for them, he refused unless she would give him a kiss. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 161 

whereupon both sate down, Sarah Tuttle with her arm on 
Jacob's shoulder, and his about her waist ; they remained 
thus nearly half-an-hour, before Mary Ann and Susan, who 
testify also that Jacob did give a kiss unto Sarah." Here 
comes in the testimony as to where were the arras, foreheads, 
lips, analyzing that kiss with a vigor beyond all criticism, and 
filling three pages with more astonishing, prudish, immodest, 
severe, and in a word licentious writing, than can be found in 
any novel. Jacob and Sarah are both admonished and fined, 
the court declaring " that is a singular and ever to be 
deplored thing that young people should have such ideas and 
should thus mutually corrupt each other." Sarah is of unjus- 
tifiable corruption in word and speech, and Jacob's conduct 
and manner are " uncivil, immodest, corrupt, blasphemous, 
and devilish," he must go to prison and pay a fine. 

For getting tipsy, poor Isaiah, servant of Captain Turner, 
pays £5, which may be something like Fes. 300 to-day. The 
servant Ruth Acie, is whipped for lying and for having re- 
ceived a visit from William Harding, the Don Juan of the 
Colony. Martha Malbon, has the same chastisement for 
having supped with this bandit of a Harding. Goodman 
Hunt is banished for having baked a pie for the said Harding, 
and his wi^e both whipped and banished for giving or receiving 
a kiss. 

All these executions, which relate to pies and kisses, date 
from January, 1643. Our Don Juan Harding pursues his 
career until 1631 ; in December of which year we find him — 
but he has exhausted the indulgence of all. He is condemn- 
ed to pay £d to Mr. Malbon ; £5 to Mr. Andrews, to quit 
the colony and to be very severely whipped. Poor Don. 
Juan ! 

Such was the Puritan legislation which civilized and pre- 
pared the United States. Several articles of the Blue Laws 



162 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

are terrible in their terseness. " No Quaker shall receive 
nourishment or lodging. Whosoever shall turn Quaker shall 
be banished, and if he return be hanged." " Art. xvii. No 
one shall rzm on the Lord's day, nor walk in his garden nor 
elsewhere, but shall only walk to and from church with gravity." 
" Art. xviii. No one shall travel, nor cook, nor make the 
beds, nor sweep the house, nor cut hair, nor shave on the 
Lord's day." " Art. xxxi. All are forbidden to read the English 
Liturgy, to keep Christmas, to make 7}iince pies, to dance, to 
play upon any instrument except the drum, the trumpet, or 
the jew sharp.'''' 

This is clearly not the civilization which would institute 
courts of love. The cruelty of the Blue Laws, which con- 
sidered it very evil for the young people to have such ideas, 
was gradually mitigated, yet its influence still exists. To day 
the American woman, physically so well treated, is morally 
kept down. One stands before her, lowers the voice, is 
careful not to wound nor displease her ; she has the best 
place at table or in a public coach, and possesses neither influ- 
ence, confidence, nor sympathy. She is disposed of as some- 
thing incomplete, yet necessary and to be honored, since the 
existence of humanity is confided to her ; to be cared for, 
because from her deterioration comes that of races^; but not 
as a partaker of the intellectual and moral rights of man. 
Sunday's sermon, the newspaper's common-place, the talk 
with a neighbor, shopping, these are the only episodes which 
give variety to her restrained and monotonous existence. As 
there is not in the air of society any of those elements of intel- 
lectual curiosity with which Europe is filled ; and as the men 
think only of eating, drinking, and becoming millionaires or 
bankrupts, so the women think only of getting married as 
soon as possible, bring up numerous children, and die with 
a mind enfeebled by a constant repetition of the same half- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 1G3 

servile duties, and tlie same objectless amusements. Such 
are the fruits of that austere severity, which, recoo-nizino* wo- 
man as the type of pleasure and of grace, condemns her be- 
cause she is so. 

In the American puritanic moral, the woman, it is true, 
ceases to be an object of barter — a material thing — but she is 
passive, timidly docile, without resource, without motive. 
She is tolerated rather than accepted, and if humanity could 
continue to exist without her, one could do without her well 
enough. 

In the South and West, girls are married very young. 
One sometimes finds a woman of twenty-three a widow for the 
second time. Neither is rare to find double or even triple 
divorces. All the laws and customs tend to the relaxation of 
the bond between the sexes, or to the rendering them inde- 
pendent of one another. It is enough that the woman show 
some moral danger to her judges to be relieved of the bond 
which galls her. " Her husband is a gambler, or too lazy to 
support his children, or he gives them a bad example and evil 
precepts." So marriages are broken. 

So an independence is established which maintains tho 
woman in her inferior rights, the man in his hard superiority. 
Hence comes a cold liberty, a mutual indij9ference, and an 
almost entire destruction of vivid affections and durable 
attachments. I know not if morality gain by it ; Miss Mar- 
tineau thinks not. If we are to believe her, American 
marriages are mercenary, founded upon interest, which would 
induce secret corruption, passionless, pleasureless. In New 
England the majority of women are married to men who 
might be their fathers; everywhere speculation chokes 'the 
sentiments of the heart ; everything is immolated to the rules 
of arithmetic. Miss Martineau, with her woman ardor calls 
it legal prostitution, and speaks bitterly of the *' sanctity of 



164 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

marriage being profaned by interest." I do not blindly adopt 
the romantic vehemence of this lady-philanthropist ; I merely 
report an accusation which I will examine hereafter. 

A collateral result of this space existing between the two 
sexes, the destruction of household and family. They go to 
live at a hotel ; the husband goes to his business, the woman 
remains in her boudoir. They dine at tabic dfhote^ and this 
common life, without home, domicile, or domestic hearth, 
this wandering life displeases no one. These hotels contain 
sometimes fifty households, if we may use that word, for the 
accidental re-union of a husband and wife, who see each other 
twice a-day, at dinner and at breakfast. One can imagine 
the education of young persons who pass their lives in these 
crowded parlors, at these tables so variously attended ; the 
life of a hotel must produce the same effect upon them as bar- 
room or club-life upon men. Besides, it is hard to have a 
household where servants are so rare. 

The word is not in use. The person whom you employ, 
and whom you call your Ae/p, will dress as well as her mistress, 
in silk, with plumed hat, or will stand behind her chair at 
dinner, with her hair dressed with flowers or a golden comb. 
" I saw one," says Miss Martineau, "who, to her other 
charms of dress, added a pair of green spectacles." For the 
least word, these helps will threaten you with the magistrate, 
and make their employers their slaves. Therefore, they 
prefer the hotel waiter, who is active, obedient, and ready. 

The American woman then attaches herself to nothing ; 
has no house to keep, nobody to talk to, and her pretensions 
to originality of thought would be rather a source of irritation 
and discontent to others, than of honor to herself. In house- 
hold, the husband goes to market, perhaps by economy. 

These are the pictures drawn by the travellers whom I 
have cited, and of which I by no means accept the personal 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 165 

responsibility. According to them, American women read 
much and reflect little. They know generally several lan- 
guages, though they lack activity of thought ; the faculty 
which they most cultivate is the humblest of all — memory. 
Pretty, fresh, delicate, and showy in youth, endowed with 
finesse, and with all that goodness and gracefulness which 
God has given to their sex, with leisure to cultivate their 
minds and to elevate their souls, and with wealth to surround 
themselves with elegance — what more do they want ? A 
society less absorbed by commerce, more chivalric, more 
impetuous, more in love with the ideal, less concentrated upon 
interest. They want judges to stimulate, to recompense them. 

The Old World, in spite of its democratic bearings, differs 
from young America. It owes the intellectual culture and 
the exquisite delicacy of women to the ineffaceable traces of 
its ancient institutions, mixtures of vice and greatness, light 
and shade, incomplete, irregular, and often evil, as all that is 
human is. To-day, the American institutions which repulse 
chivalry and encourage personal interest, produce contrary 
effects. 

After all, the future of this novice nation is so vast, and ~ 
its situation so evidently transitory, that it would be unjust to 
believe all that the British travellers say. They judge a 
growing country as though it were ripe and formed. They 
do not see that the most amiable and appreciated qualities of 
the Old World would be vices and dangers in the New. They 
say that American women are more instructed and polite 
than their brothers and husbands. How could it be other- 
wise ? What need have the Americans of to-day of re- 
finement and politeness ? Of what use to them a Dante, a 
Raphael, a Moliere .? They have something harder to do. 
For them, rude ambition, ardent and pitiless trade. If indi- 
viduals lose, the country gains. 



166 ORIGIN AND PROrjRESS OF 

Unfortunately, exaggerated activity brutalizes. Repose, 
revery, forgetfalness of daily care, give birth to graces and 
delicacies. Hope not for poetry from that pivot of hot iron 
called a business-man, rolling eternally in a circle of egotist 
activity ; if you get in the way of his interest, he will tear 
you to rags. 



SECTION III. 

YES, sir" CONVERSATION 

BETW^EEN TW^O HATS. 

Some coteries in New York and Philadelphia endeavor to 
model their customs upon those of London and Paris ; it is 
that portion of American manners, which Mr. Grundt has 
noticed well enough, but a little grossly. As to Dickens, 
much more sly, his portraits are distinguished by a fineness and 
gaiety often profound. He is not foolishly angry with the 
democracy, but he picks out their good points, and the 
benevolent germs which they develope, and sets them in full 
relief. Among the qualities which the American institutions 
have evidently protected, are activity, patience, mutual com- 
plaisance and gentleness. The crowd is a grand master of 
philosophy. This blind mass, sightless and mute by instinct, 
compels the community not to exaggerate its own value, 
and to esteem a fellow-creature. Therefore, they help one 
another, and endure each other's neighborhood. 

The democratic habit has produced among the Americans 
a sort of empty politeness, a complaisant habit of assent 
which becomes insipid. Everybody agrees with everybody 
else, and common-place becomes a refuge for all. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 167 

Dickens has written deliciously about this. Accordino- to 
him, the basis of American language is " Yes, sir," words 
which wound nobody, and' which the citizens of the United 
States, repeat at every moment with diverse inflections. " ]. 
have heard this ' Yes, sir,' " he says, " more than two thou- 
sand times a day. It rings like a bell, and like a bell 
expresses all emotions, fills up gaps in the conversation, 
understanding and leisure. 

" Whenever the coach stops, and you can hear the voices 
of the inside passengers ; or whenever any bystander addresses 
them, or any one among them, or they address each other, 
you will hear one phrase repeated over and over, and over 
again, to the most extraordinary extent. It is an ordinary 
and unpromising phrase enough, being neither more nor less 
than " Yes, sir ;" but it is adapted to every variety of circum- 
stance, and fills up every pause in the conversation. Thus : 

" The time is one o'clock at noon. The scene, a place 
where we are to stay to dine, on this journey. The 
coach drives up to the door of an inn. The day is warm, and 
there are several idlers lingering about the tavern, and waiting 
for the public dinner. Among them is a stout gentleman in 
a brown hat, swinging himself to and fro in a rocking-chair 
on the pavement. 

" As the coach stops, a gentleman in a straw hat looks out of 
the window. 

Straw Hat. (To the stout gentleman in the rocking-chair) . 
I reckon that's Judge Jefferson, a'nt it } 

" Brown Hat. (Still swinging, speaking very slowly, and 
without any emotion whatever). Yes, sir. 

" Straw Hat. "Warm weather. Judge. 

^' Broivn Hat. Yes, sir. 

" Straw Hat. There was a snap of cold last week. 

" Brown Hat. Yes, sir. 



16S ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

" Straw Hat. Yes, sir. 

" A pause. They look at each other very seriously. 

Straw Hat. I calculate you'll have got through that case 
of the corporation, Judge, by this time, now ? 

" Brown Hat. Yes, sir. 

" Strata Hat. How did the verdict go, sir ? 

" Broivn Hat. For the defendant, sir. 

^^ Straw Hat. (Interrogatively). Yes, sir ? 

" Broum Hat. (Affirmatively). Yes, sir. 

" Both. (Musingly, as each gazes down the streetj. Yes, 
sir. 

" Another pause. They look at each other again, still more 
seriously than before. 

" Brown Hat. This coach is rather behind its time to-day, 
I guess. 

" Straw Hat. (Doubtingly). Yes, sir. 

" Brown Hat. (Looking at his watch). Yes, sir, nigh upon 
two hours. 

'' Straw Hat. (Raising his eyebrows in very great sur- 
prise). Yes, sir. 

" Brown Hat. (Decisively, as he puts up his watch). Yes, 
sir. 

'''•All the other Inside Passengers. (Among themselves). 
Yes, sir. 

" Coachman. (In a very surly tone). No it a'nt. 

" Straw Hat. (To the coachman). Well, I don't know, 
sir. We were a pretty tall time coming the last fifteen mile. 
That's a fact. 

^' The coachman making no reply, and plainly declining to 
enter into any controversy on a subject so far removed from 
his sympathies and feelings, another passenger says, ' Yes, sir ;' 
and the gentleman in the straw hat, in acknowledgment of his 
courtesy, says ' Yes, sir,' to him, in return. The straw hat 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 169 

then inquires of the brown hat, whether that coach in which, 
he (the straw hat) then sits, is not a new one ; to which the 
brown hat again makes answer, * Yes, sir.' 

" Straw Hat. I thought so. Pretty loud smell of varnish, 
sir ? 

''' Brown Hat. Yes, sir. 

" All the other Inside Passengers. Yes, sir. 

" Brown Hat. (To the company in general). Yes, sir. 

" The conversational powers of the company having been by 
this time pretty heavily taxed, straw hat opens the door, and 
gets out, and all the rest alight also. We dine soon after- 
ward with the boarders in the house, and , have nothing to 
drink but tea and coffee." ' 



SECTION V. 

ENGLISH EXAGGERATION DIALECT NEW CITIES. 

This feebleness of individual character, this fear of wound- 
ing any one ; this apathy in conversation, this perpetual and 
insignificant consent ought to make American society luke- 
warm and fatiguing. One is gentle, hospitable, one dissembles, 
annoys oneself, yields individual right to the rights of all. 
Thus with the roughness and sharpness of natural character, 
one loses the wild naivete, the originality and the piquant 
variety which result from contrasts. Miss Martineau, who 
never tires of praising her dear republic, is astonished that the 
Americans should thus pass their lives in flattering one 
another, and the disgust which this inspires, dictates a 
comparison somewhat hardy for an English woman. " I am 
8 



170 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

less disgusted," she says, '^ at the filthy habit of smoking and 
spitting everywhere, iu parlor, boudoir, or Congress. The 
father flatters the son ; the son the father. Hence comes a 
contempt for well merited praise, since praise is thus com- 
monly awarded. Does a wretched bankrupt fraudulent and 
suspected of forgery, die, some one will preach a eulogy at his 
funeral. The journals are full of panegyrics on worthless 
books. Orators flatter the people^ people the orator. The 
pastor praises his flock, the flock are amaaed at the superiority 
of their pastor : professors admire their pupils, and these 
immeasurably exaggerate the merits of the professor. All 
this is puerile, vulgar, and what is worse, egoist. Everybody 
in this free country lavishes the small change of praise, to 
purchase for himself the praise of another. They pitch into 
the maw of a cross Cerberus, a bit of eulogy which prevents 
his biting. 

It is not only Miss Martineau, and the sailor Marryat who 
thus accuse America of lacking sincerity and liberty. In 1835 
appeared at Boston a small volume entitled " Sober Thoughts 
on the state of the Times," from which we borrow the follow- 
ing passage. " The foolish vanity of our journals is incess- 
antly repeating that we are the freest people on the earth ; 
that with us, liberty of thought and opinion is complete. 
Well, I defy any observer to point out one state in which 
thought or opinion are free. On the contrary it is a deplora- 
ble fact, that intelligence is nowhere so enslaved as here. 
Never was there so hard and so crushing a despotism, as public 
opinion, with us ; surrounded with darkness, a monarch more 
than Asiatic, illegitimate in its source, tyrant which cannot be 
impeached nor dethroned ; irresistible when it would strangle 
reason, repress action, silence conviction, and beat down 
timid souls, to make them perhaps leap up in admiration of 
the merest impostor. Be a cheat, get in your favor the pop- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 171 

ular prejudice, and you will make the wise flee to hide them- 
selves until the moment when some new trickster comes and 
dethrones you. Such is the moral and intellectual position 
of America, the least free, in reality, of any region on the 
globe." 

In the singular dialogue, quoted from Dickens, you may 
have remarked certain words singularly applied : I guess j I 
calculate, I reckon. These are locutions peculiar to the 
anglo- American dialect. They are worth noticing. Calcu- 
late takes the place of the words think and suppose ; guess is 
used for believe, imagine. Instead of saying directly, they say 
right away. America, in preserving the language of the 
mother country, has changed the signification of some words ; 
as Italy has changed the meaning of virtu, which now means the 
science of the arts ; and Greece the sense of the word rtiiT] 
(time) which once meant " honor,''"' but now means " money ?" 
What may appear singular is, that this people of the future 
and of expectation, instead of saying, / conjecture, or. I 
imagine, say, / expect — " expect, guess, calculate'''' — these are 
the sacramental words. 

Says Dickens : 

" In a railroad car, you are pretty sure to be accosted 
somewhat as follows : 

" ' I expect that the English railroads are like ours V 

" You reply ' No.' 

" The American says interrogatively : 

" ' Yes } and what is the difference }'' 

" You tell him, and at each pause of your explanation, he 
says : 

" ' Yes r and continues, 

" ' I guess you don't go any faster in England P 

" ' Pardon me,' you say. 

"/ Yes .?' he says, and then is politely silent, being per- 



1*72 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

suaded that you have lied. For ten minutes he bites the 
head of his cane, and then addressing it, rather than you, 
says, 

'' ' The Americans are reckoned to be a people who go 
ahead.' 

" ' You cannot help saying, interrogatively, * Yes ?' and he 
answers very vigorously, 

'"Yes."' 

These familiar circumstances show the true leanings of 
a nation. This nation is still too young, and already too 
powerful, too incomplete, yet too rich, to escape the suscep- 
tibility, weakness, and morbid sensitiveness and follies of the 
parvenu. All travellers find in the Americans a suffering and 
nervous sensitiveness which hides the best part of the nation- 
al character. Seeing only the timid side, the English are 
pitiless ; they note the defects, and forget that these are 
effaced by good qualities. 

Upon this Miss Martineau has endless dissertations, Basil 
Hall chatters, Dickens jokes, and Marryatt flies into a 
passion. We do not much heed an author's passion : never- 
theless that is the moving power, the wind that drives the 
bark. English rancor is blind with reference to America. 
They pick out and present before us the worst points of view : 
but what cannot be said of a country which contains every- 
thing ! which is made up of all materials, is always changing, 
always getting larger, has no natural limits save the two 
oceans, does not itself know what it is, what it can, what it 
should, or what it will be ; which has neither Past nor Present, 
but only a boundless Future. Paint in divers colors, the 
squatters who struggle with the desert ; the fanatics who howl 
in the forests ; the travelling traders, and all these isolated 
pictures will be inexact. United and grouped, they will give 
a just idea of the American Democracy, a gigantic embryo, a 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 173 

heap of wandering particles, which will one day form one 
colossal mass. 

It would appear that the climate of North America, aids in 
making the sons of the Puritans somewhat like the aboriginal 
inhabitants of the forest. The predilection for vast images, 
and grand metaphors ; the love of a wandering life, coldness 
in the relation between the two sexes, coldness mingled with 
dignity, appear to be characteristics borrowed from the In- 
dian ; whether the temperature have modified the Anglo- 
Saxon race, or that. the example of the red-skins has been 
contagious. In the most remarkable novels of Cooper, the 
savage and the squatter resemble each other almost to identity. 

The ancient sap of the race mingles with the action of a 
a new climate, with the philosophy of the 18th century, with 
the democratic spirit, and finally with the puritan spirit, the 
traces of which are, as we have said above, not yet efiaced. 
Several scenes reported by Marryatt and Dickens recall the 
times of Cromwell, you fancy yourself to be reading a page of 
Butler or of Scott. Take this sketch from Dickens. 

" The only preacher I heard in Boston was Mr. Taylor, 
who addresses himself peculiarly to seamen, and who was 
once a mariner himself. I found his chapel down among the 
shipping, in one of the narrow, old, water-side streets, with 
a gay blue flag waving freely from its roof. Sometimes, when 
much excited with his subject, he had an odd way — com- 
pounded of John Bunyan and Balfour of Burley — of taking 
his great quarto Bible under his arm and pacing up and down 
the pulpit with it ; looking steadily down, meantime into midst 
of the congregation. Thus, when he applied his text to this 
first assemblage of his hearers, and pictured the wonder of the 
church at their presumption in forming a congregation among 
themselves, he stopped short with his Bible under his arm in 



174 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

the manner I have described, and pursued his discourse after 
this manner : 

" ' Who are these — who are they — who are these fellows ? 
where do they come from ? where are they going to ? Come 
from ! What's the answer ?' leaning out of the pulpit, and 
pointing downward with his right hand: 'From below!' 
starting back again, and looking at the sailors before him : 
' From below, my brethren. From under the hatches of sin, 
battened down above you by the evil one. That's where you 
came from !' a walk up and down the pulpit : ' and where 
are you going ' — stopping abruptly, ' where are you going ? 
Aloft!' — very softly, and pointing upward: 'Aloft!' — 
louder : ' aloft !' — louder still : ' That's where you are going 
— with a fair wind — all taught and trim, steering direct for 
Heaven in its glory, where there are no storms or foal weather, 
and where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are 
at rest.' Another walk : ' That's where you're going to, my 
friends. That's it. That's the place. That's the port. 
That's the haven. It's a blessed harbor — still water there, 
in all changes of the winds and tides ; no driving ashore upon 
the rocks, or slipping your cables and running out to sea, 
there. Peace — peace — peace — all peace!' — Another walk, 
and patting the Bible under his left arm. ' " 



In so vast a country there is room for all, Past and Pre- 
sent ; English eccentricities, French novelties, and specimens 
of antiquated manners are all at their ease there. The in- 
crease of population is in proportion to the immensity of 
the land. The single city of Rochester which in 1815 counted 
331 inhabitants now counts 15,000. They have more than 
tripled in three years ; and eleven years have been enough to 



LITERATURE ANl> ELOQUENCE. 175 

multiply its population by twenty five. When one thinks that 
these things are going on all over America without beino- 
noticed, one recognizes the force of this infant, giant society. 
It goes so rapidly and so powerfully that we cannot demand 
elegant attitudes from it. 

It has its puerilities, and buries our Europe before she is 
dead. It has villages called Paris, and towns called Rome. 
There is something comic about this renewing of the Old 
World, this dressing of it in masquerade clothes. Syracuse 
after Orleans, Chartrcs and Memphis, Canton and Venice. 
The old globe is mirrored here, upon this young unknown 
hemisphere. You- cross Troy to get to Pontoise ; thence you 
go to Mondaga, or Tchecktawasaga ; you find yourself ia 
Corinth, and from thence you go to Madrid, passing on your 
road Thebes, Tripoli, Schenectady, Tomkins, Babylon, Lon- 
don, Sullivan, and Naples. What is remarkable is the pro- 
gress of all these places. Where Captain Basil Hall saw two 
shops and a church, Hamilton found a town j three years 
afterward, Miss Martineau saw here a small city, and two 
years later Charles Dickens admires its hotels, its theatre, its 
promenade, its port, its quai, 

'Tis a miraculous rapidity of growth. Everything grows 
like mushroons. How then can you ask a finished society 
from a people in so great a hurry ! A nation so soon successful 
(parvenue)j has the faults of parvenues, susceptibility, ostenta- 
tion, vanity, love of rule, anxiety about public opinion. One 
is not astonished, one does not try to enjoy perfect pleasure 
in a house which is being built, where the hammer is sound- 
ing, where flames sparkle and Cyclops toil regardless of aught 
else but their toil. Why impute, to them, as a crime, the 
intense activity which is both their strength and their great- 



176 ORIGIN AND TROGRESS OF 



SECTION VI. 

SUPERSTITIOUS REGARD FOR PUBLIC OPINION THE AMERICAN 

PRESS AND ITS EXCESSES HELPS. 

Public opinion, and the press, its minister and slave, have 
made extraordinary ravages and accomplished incredible 
usurpation in the United States. It appears that every peo- 
ple have, need of a tyrant, and that the laws of humanity 
require it to submit to power, as the law of power seems to 
require abuse. The Americans, professors of democratic 
principles, have created a power of opinion to which they 
submit. This power is abused. As the nation chooses it, she 
also encourages it. Armed with a journal, that is, with a 
battery of opinion, you can pillage and assassinate with impu- 
nity. For instance, the horrible case of the murderer Colt, 
who was several times reprieved by journal-influence and at 
last committed suicide. 

Some citizens of the States who have had the courage to 
tell the truth have incurred real danger. " Where," cries an 
American, ^' shall the free thinker take refuge ? To speak 
unreservedly of any country, must we establish a press in 
some desert island ? or beside the Pole ? The facility and 
rapidity of communication seem to have repressed rather than 
encouraged the independence of ideas, and soon one will 
recognize with astonishment that typography, that second 
Word of humanity, has been, like speech, given but to con- 
ceal thought." The independent thinkers who have dared to 
write thus, true heroes of moral courage Clay, Webster, 
Channing, Cooper, and Garrison, should be cited with 
honor. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 1*77 

G-arrison has sustained the rights of the slave at the peril 
of his life ; had he possessed the power, slavery would not now 
exist. But in the Carolinas where no one will serve, how can 
one get on without slaves ? Bells are banished, their use 
being humiliating. The servants or rather the helps^ as there 
are no servants, let you wait for hours. 

This chapter is, as we have already said, abundant in 
original adventures. A lady expected some friends to supper, 
they came late, and the dishes were placed in one of those 
portable stoves intended to preserve the heat and kept in the 
eating room. When the guests entered, they saw a help sit- 
ting at table and demolishing a fine bird. When reproached 
the answer was, " Well, nobody came, and everything was 
getting cold," " Another lackey," says Miss Martineau, 
" received orders from his mistress to say and do nothing, but 
to see that every guest had sugar and milk for their tea. 
For two hours he performed this service well and then opened 
the door and went out. But remorse seized him and half 
opening the door he cried to a company occupying a sofa, 
' Say ! you ! have you got sugar enough } ' " 

Nor is it only in this article that destruction of class is 
felt. There, as in France, commerce and production lower 
each other. The buyers are no longer a class ; consumers 
are on the same footing with furnishers ; makers and sellers 
are on the same level. They manufacture quick and well 
enough to secure a sale, at race-course speed, and hence 
results a general mediocrity of products. 

Germans, Spaniards, Irish, Scottish, French, fall at once 
into the Anglo-Saxon and Dutch mass, the ancient basis of 
the colony, and produce a curious result ; the hostile colors 
are neutralized and lost, as the fusion of all the colors on a 
painter's palette results in a grey and uaiueiess tint. 

Yet there are terrible dramas there. Near the Rocky 



178 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

Mountains, and in parts of the South, the life of the settlers 
is frightfully wild. There law is silent or powerless ; in those 
solitudes take place the most horrible and incredible things. 
We were much amased in Europe at the Hindoo association 
of Thugs and Phansigars, who strangled travellers so scienti- 
fically, and formed a religious sect. The little volume pub- 
lished in Boston, called the Life and Confessions of Murel, 
prove that the same sort of association, submitted to more re- 
fined laws (as was proper for the children of the old European 
civilization) can exist in the United States. There was the 
same concord of evil for money, the same cupidity, the same 
secret and cautious regularity in the execution of murders. 
It is only necessary to read the trials in the public papers to 
form an idea of these horrors. It is generally on the banks 
of the Mississippi that they occur ; muddy and blood-stained 
stream, whose waters, says an American, has engulfed more 
corpses, and whose banks have concealed more crime than 
we will ever know. A clever writer could make much of the 
life of Murel or of Mike ; or even of the newspaper recita- 
tions of the loss of the Home or the Moselle. 

Still, in all this, the ancient nationalities may be traced, 
the enterprising energy and patient audacity of the Saxon, 
the indomitable ternerity of the Norman, the exaggerated 
cockneyism and vulgarity of Wapping, the calm sterility and 
ci^/ier- egotism of Leadenhall Street, the adventurous smartness 
of the blackleg, the outward and formal rigor of the Puritan. 
The Old English nationality has not yet had the time to get 
quiet and refined, nor to transform itself thoroughly ; but 
this will take place, and soon one will no longer recognise its 
source. Every day furthers the metamorphosis, and few see 
what is going on under their very eyes. 

Precisely as in 1666, the germs of a republic tilled America 
without attracting notice ; so now a colossal Europe is being 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 179 

formed there, and no one sees it. What will become of the 
Puritan civilization submitted to a mathematical education ? 
It is the first time that the experiment has been made, and 
that philanthropy, the arts, religion herself, are formulised by 
cube-roots and cosines. Captain Hall says that the pupils of 
the Military School at West Point lose their names and are 
numbered. How will it work, this reduction of men to figures ? 
We will know hereafter. Marryatt gives another illustration 
of this reign of figures, two young women speaking, in a 
stage-coach, about their new bonnets, do so mathematically. 

Such a social organization is not favorable to literature, and 
does not need it. This nation of laborious ants, of busy bees, 
of human beings forever at work, who do not take time to eat, 
who despise leisure, who abhor repose, is in the most detest- 
able position — for the cultivation of art and poesy. Yet there 
are political orators, Webster, Clay, Everett, Cass : — historians, 
as Bancroft, Schoolcraft, Butler, Carey, Pitkins, Prescott, 
Sparks — miscellaneous writers as Neal, Stevens, Child, Leslie, 
Sedgcwick, Sanderson, Willis, Hall, Fay, Washington Irving, 
Herman Melville ; — novelists, Paulding, Tngrahara, Kennedy, 
Bird ; — poets, Drake, Longfellow, Bryant, Sigourney, Hallock ; 
— legists, Kent, Story, Hall — but above all that courageous 
man, who has revealed to the Americans their danger, who 
has pointed out the reefs upon which their prosperity may 
suffer shipwreck, Fennimore Cooper. 

It is strange that the government of masses do not develop 
mental liberty ; it strangles it and for a mathematical reason. 
When all have rights over us, he who detaches himself from the 
mass offends all. You cannot unite originality with equality. 
Elegance, exactitude, magniloquence, affectation may get 
along with such a position, but humor and liberty, never. 

They are trying now in America that stimulating and 
caustic literature which still exists in France. Our dramatic 



180 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. 

representations, have not yet attained to the exciting intensity 
of a recent drama called " The Infernal Regions^ The 
author does not bother himself about the dialogue : but his 
piece is filled with the damned and the hanged ; with cauldrons, 
tortures, skinnings, and flames, bowlings, gnashing of teeth; a 
darkness illumined by streaks of lurid light, seas of blood, 
plaintive wails, unfortunates plunged in boiling pitch, and 
devils tearing off with their pincers, long shreds of human 
flesh. All this replaces, with advantage, ^schylus and 
Sophocles, Shakspeare and Corneille. 



CHAPTER V, 
OF SOME ANGLO-AMERICAN POETS. 



SECTION I. 

JOEL BARLOW, DWIGHT, COLTON WASHINGTON, A HEROIC 

POEM ROBERT PAYNE AND CHARLES SPRAGUE DANA, 

DRAKE AND PIERREPONT WOMEN-POETS STREET AND 

HALLECK. 

In a certain American Collection, the editor, apropos to 
the very innocent novels of Frederika Bremer, writes six 
pages against fiction in general and the novel in particular. 
" Positive and practical life," quoth he, " is enough for man ; 
imagination is dangerous ; arts are evil." Let the Americans 
be tranquil. They are not in the slightest danger of ruin 
from imagination and refinement. In another part of tho 
same work, philosophy is treated in the same way. In a 
word the highest faculties of the mind are anathematized; 
and what would frighten us, were it not for the reparation of 
the Future, is that European civilization appears to be sinking 
into this hollow of thick materialism opposed to the progress 
of human destiny. 

American civilization, born of prose, built upon proso, 
struggling with matter, and only esteeming matter when made 



182 OUIGIN AND Pi.OUKESS OF 

useful to the body, has neverthelesss its poets ; nas a crowd 
indeed of them, and naturally enough ; Poetry costs them 
nothing ; they make their verses in their lost moments, as 
one plays ninepins or billiards, on Sunday, after a long and 
laboriously industrious week. Mr. Rufus W. Griswold 
has been pleased to collect in an enormous volume, equal V) 
twelve common ones, the colossal mass of American poetry. 
An historical introduction serves as Propyloeum to these 
redoubtable five hundred pages, where gleam the names of 
more than one hundred indigenous poets. The distinctive 
sign of all the specimens is common-place ; they are all made 
with a shoemaker's punch. Take off your hats to these epi- 
thets, salute these images, they are from the Gradus ad Par- 
nassum. The worn-out forms of Europe make fortunes in 
the States, as bonnets of passed fashion do in the colonies. 
The figures are stereotyped ; the lake is ever blue, the forest 
ever trembling, the eagle invariably sublime. The bad 
Spanish poets did not write more rapidly stantes pede in unOj 
their wretched rhymes, that the modern American verse- 
makers, bankers, settlers, merchants, clerks and tavern-keep- 
ers, their epics and their odes. 

In the way of counterfeiting, they are quite at ease. One 
redoes the Giaour, another the Dunciad. Mr. Charles Fenno 
Hoffman repeats the songs of Thomas Moore ; Mr ^Sprague 
models after Pope and Collins. One takes the Byronic 
stanza, another appropriates the cadence and images of 
Wordsworth. Mrs. Hemans, Tennyson, Milnes, all find 
imitators. Once the consecration of the British public given, 
the American counterfeit soon appears. • 

Why should a decrepit and provincial Muse seat herself at 
the foot of the Alleghanies. I have said above, this nation is 
too young. The freshness of those gulfs of foliage, old as the 
world, and sunlight breaking into rainbows over immense 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 183 

cascades, cannot yet bring forth a poesy which possesses the 
elements of its work, but not the force to accomplish it. 

The majority of the poets boasted by Mr. Grriswold, offer 
discolored reflections of the metropolis, enfeebled echoes of 
the British nationality. With most, rapidity of execution 
and incorrectness of language is strangely joined with a 
descriptive exaggeration, and a flood of vague, enormous 
metaphors which express nothing. Some renounce even the 
grammar, and forget the proper formation of English words. 
Poet Payne says fadeless^ tireless, which are frightful barba- 
risms, compositions foreign to Anglo-Saxon grammar and 
analogy. The primitive less, the Gothic laus, the German 
los, meaning "exempt from," "free of," "deprived of," 
cannot evidently be united to anything but a substantive, 
houseless, colorless. This is a simple rule, strictly observed by 
the Germans, who say ehrlos, furchtlos, but not efirlich-los, 
fvrchthar-los any more than we say sans honorable. sa7is 
redoubtable, instead of sans honrieur, sans crainte.^ ISow the 
true poet never destroys the elements of a language but uses 
them with a wise freedom which makes them more abundant. 

Faithful to their commercial probity, the American poets 
generally give good measure, yea, whole tons of mediocre 
verses ; the quantity is to make amends for the quality. The 
Columbiad by Joel Barlow, Conquest of Canaan by D wight, 
Tecumseh by Colton, epics, colossi of cotton and papier mache 
form a mass of about ten thousand verses which, however, 
yield the palm of absurdity to the epic entitled " Washington,'''' 
printed in Boston, 1843. 

Channing had accused the United States of possessing no 

* We fear that Mr. Chasles' difficulty is somewhat like the oft-cited 
Irish flea : when you put your finger on it, it is not there. Neither Mr. 
Payne, nor any other American man known to us ever said honorable- 
less^ ox fearful-less. 



184 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

national Literature. " This struck me," says the author in 
his preface, *' and I formed a resolution to present my country 
with an epic." Alas, the honest man had a shop to take care 
of, and how could one attend to the counter and the necessities 
of an epic poem. " I had the prudence," says he, " to put 
off the fabrication of my poem, until I should have made a 
fortune." It would have been a shame to have spoiled a 
good merchant without making a good poet. I therefore 
arranged my affairs, and then retired to the solitude with my 
imagination. Once comfortably settled in the " solitude with 
his imagination," the American poet " presented his country" 
with an extraordinary and immense production, entitled 
Washington^ a National Ejpic. 

The opening is simple. Washington is taking tea with his 
wife. The hero cries out, 

" For me as from this chair I rise 
So surely will I undertake this night 
To raise the people." 

His wife begs him to take a cup of tea before raising the 
people, for she was 

" There by the glistening board, ready to pour 
Forth the refreshment of her Chinese cups." 

" Oh my dear wife," says Washington, '' my time is not my own 
And I am come, etc., etc." 

The world has seen many preposterous epics, but none 
quite equal to this one. • 

What shall we say of the great men with whom Mr. Gris- 
wold has peopled the American Parnassus, Trumbull, Alsop, 
Clason, Robert Payne, Charles Sprague, Cranche, Legget, 
Pike, Hopkiuson and some fifty others. One of them, Robert 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 185 

Payne, represents "Washington standing up and with a drawn 
sword in his hand, repelling with his breast the thunderbolts, 
^' like an electric conductor, directing the lightning towards 
the ocean where it is to be extinguished." This heroic 
lightning rod is the chef-cVmuvrt of machine poetry. Some 
others, Percival has been still more successful in piling up 
words without ideas. 

Mr. Charles Sprague, cashier of the Globe Bank in Massa- 
chusetts, and who leads a very retired life, fabricates labori- 
ously, after the manner of Pope, didactic verses, agreeable 
enough — he is a republican, American, banking Pope, 

Mr. Dana, author of the Buccaneer^ and Mr. Drake who 
wrote the Culprit Fay^ are of a higher order. Mr. John 
Pierrepont, a lawyer and author of '"''Airs of Falestine^'^'' is very 
moral, monotonous, and unpoetic. Several ladies, Mrs. 
Osgood, Mrs. Sigourney, Mrs. Brooks under the title of 
Maria del Occidente, have published poems. Those of the 
first-named lady are pretensiously puerile, the secon.d is only 
distinguished by wordy facility, and Mrs. Brooks, author of 
Zophiel, has a talent which is so fatiguing by its heaps of color, 
of sound, and of images, the complication of the rhythm, and 
the fantastic subject, that both mind and ear cry out, hold ! 
The only names which we can single out from this forest of 
versifiers are Street, Halleck, Bryant, Longfellow, and 
Emerson. 

Street is a descriptive poet, agreeable but difl'use, Halleck, 
superintendent of the rich Mr. Astor, is the author of Marco 
Bozzaris and of Red Jacket^ pure and agreeable poems- 
William CuUen Bryant is far superior. 



186 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 



SECTION II. 

BRYANT EMERSON LONGFELLOW. 

Bryant has created notliing great ; his voice is feeble, 
melodious, somewhat vague ; but pure, solemn, and not 
imitative. 

More philosophic than picturesque, the expression of melan- 
choly sensations, born of forest and lake, finds a sweet echo 
in his verse. The sublime is not his territory ; his peculiar 
charm is a chaste and pensive sadness, which associates itself 
with natural objects and the beings of the creation ; he loves 
them, and the modest piety mingled with this affection, 
breathes a pathetic grace upon his verse. Christian and 
English poet, the gentle solemnity of his poetry emanates 
from his religious conviction. If he set his foot in the forest, 
he sees God there. 

" Come when the rains 
Have glazed the snow, and clothed the trees with ice ; 
While the slant sun of February pours 
Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach 
The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps, 
And the broad arching portals of the grove 
Welcome thy entering. Look ! the massy trunk 
Are cased in the pure crystal ; each light spray, 
Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven, 
Is studded with its trembling water-drops, 
That stream wdth rainbow radiance as they move. 
But round the parent stem the long low boughs 
Bend, in a glittering ring) and arbors hide 
The glassy floor. Oh ! you might deem the spot 
The spacious cavern of some virgin mine, 
Deep in the womb of earth — where the gems grow, 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 187 

' And diamonds put forth radiant rods and bud 
With amethyst and topaz — and the place 
Lit up, most royally, with the pure beam 
That dwells in them. Or haply the vast hall 
Of fairy palace, that outlasts the night, 
And fades not in the glory of the sun ;— 
Where crystal columns send forth slender shafts 
And crossing arches; and fantastic aisles 
Wind from the sight in brightness, and are lost 
Among ihe crowded pillars." 

Sometimes the souvenir of the Indian, destroyed by civil- 
ization, gives a more vivid interest to his poems. We can cite, 
as chefs cPccuvre of pathos, " The Indian Girl's Lament," 
" An Indian at the Burial Place of bis Fathers." " The 
Disinterred Warrior," and " Monument Mountain." 

THE DISINTERRED WARRIOR. 

Gather him to his grave again. 

And solemnly and softly lay, 
Beneath the verdure of the plain, 

The warrior's scattered bones away. 
Pay the deep reverence taught of old, 

Tiie homage of man's heart to death ; 
Nor dare to trifle with the mould 

Once hallowed by the Almighty's breath. 

The soul hath quickened every part — 

That remnant of a martial brow, 
Those ribs that held the mighty heart, 

That strong arm — strong no longer now. 
Spare them, each mouldering relic spare. 

Of God's own image ; let them rest, 
Till not a trace shall speak of where 

The awful likeness was impressed, 



188 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

For he was fresher from ihe hand 

That formed of earth the human face, 
And to the elements did stand 

In nearer kindred than our race. 
In many a flood to madness tossed, 

In many a storm has been his path ; 
He hid him not from heat or frost, 

But met them, and defied their wrath. 

Then they were kind — the forests here, 

Rivers, and stiller waters, paid 
A tribute to the net and spear 

Of the red ruler of the shade. 
Fruits on the woodland branches lay, 

Roots in the shaded soil below. 
The stars looked forth to teach his way, 

The still earth warned him of the foe. 

A noble race ! but they are gone, 

With their old forests wide and deep. 
And we have built our homes upon 

Fields where their generations sleep. 
Their fountains slake our thirst at noon. 

Upon their fields our harvests wave, 
Our lovers woo beneath their moon — 

Then let us spare, at least their grave. 

The Ages, a poem in the style of Childe Harold, contains a 
still more remarkable fragment. 

Late, from this western shore, that morning chased 
The deep and ancient night, that threw its shroud 
O'er the green land of groves, the beautiful waste, 
Nurse of full streams, and lifter-up of proud 
Sky mingling mountains that o'erlook the cloud. 
Erewhile, where yon gay spires their brightness rear, 
Trees waved, and the brown hunter's shouts were loud 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 189 

Amid the forest ; and the hounding deer 
Fled at the glancing pUime, and the gaunt wolf yelled near. 

And where his willing waves yon bright blue bay 
Sends up, to kiss his decorated brim, 
And cradles, in his soft embrace, the gay 
Young group of grassy islands born of him, 
And crowding nigh, or in the distance dim, 
Lifts the white throng of sails, that bear or bring 
The commerce of the world , — with tawny limb, 
And belt and beads in sunlight glistening, 
The savage urged his skiff like wild bird on the wing. 

Then all this youthful paradise around, 
And all the broad and boundless mainland, lay 
Cooled by the interminable wood, that frowned 
O'er mount and vale, where never summer ray 
Glanced, till the strong tornado broke his way 
Through the gray giants of the sylvan wild ; 
Yet many a sheltered glade, with blossoms gay, 
Beneath the showery sky and sunshine mild, 
Within the shaggy arms of that dark forest smiled. 

There stood the Indian hamlet, there the lake 
Spread its blue sheet that flashed with many an oar, 
Where the brown otter plunged him from the brake, 
And the deer drank : as the light gale flew o'er. 
The twinkling maize-field rustled on the shore , 
And while that spot, so wild, and lone, and fair, 
A look of glad and guiltless beauty wore, 
Ajid peace was on the earth and in the air. 
The warrior lit the pile, and bound his captive there : 

Not unavenged — the foeman, from the wood. 
Beheld the deed, and when the midnight shade 
Was stillest, gorged his battle-axe with blood ; 
All died — the wailing babe — the shrieking maid — 
And in the flood of fire that scathed the glade. 
The roofs went down ; but deep the silence grew, 



190 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

When on the dewy woods the day-beam played ; 
No more the cabin smokes rose wreathed and blue, 
And ever by their lake, lay moored the light canoe. 

Look now abroad — another race has filled 
These populous borders — wide the wood recedes, 
And towns shoot up, and fertile realms are tilled : 
The land is full of harvests and green meads ; 
Streams numberless that many a fountain feeds. 
Shine, disembowered, and give to sun and breeze 
Their virgin waters ; the full region leads 
New colonies forth, that toward the western seas 
Spread, like a rapid flame among the autumnal trees. 

Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, 
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place 
A limit to the giant's unchained strength. 
Or curb his swiftness in the forward race ! 
Far, like the comet's way, through infinite space, 
Stretches the long un travelled path of light, 
Into the depths of ages : we may trace, 
Distant, the brightening glory of its flight, 
Till the receding rays are lost to human sight. 

Europe is given a prey to sterner fates. 
And writhes in shackles ; strong the arms that chain 
To earth her struggling multitude of states ; 
She too is strong, and might not chafe in vain 
A gainst them, but might cast to earth the train 
That trample her. and break their iron net. 
Yes, she shall look on brighter days and gain 
The meed of worthier deeds ; the moment set 
To rescue and raise up, draws near — but is not yet. 

But thou, my country, thou shalt never fall, 
Save with thy children — thy maternal care. 
Thy lavish love, thy blessings showered on all — 
These are thy fetters — seas and stormy air 
Are the wide barrier of thy borders, where, 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 191 

Among thy gallant sons that guard thee well, 
Thou laugh'st at enemies : who shall then declare 
The date of thy deep-founded strength, or tell 
How happy, in thy lap, the sons of men shall dwell ? 

Bryant by his contemplative gentleness and gravity reminds 
one of Klopstock ; fantasy and free caprice are found in 
neither. You wander with them through arcades of verdure 
which shadow slow and quiet waters ; a few waters only gleam 
in the rare sunlight. In the poems of Bryant, reprinted iu 
London, 1840, 1842, the sermonizing tone predominates. 

The summer day is closed — the sun is set : 
Well they have done their office, those bright hours, 
The latest of whose train goes softly out 
In the red West. The green blade of the ground 
Has risen, and herds have cropped it : the young twig 
Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun ; 
Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown 
And withered ; seeds have fallen upon the soil, 
From bursting cells, and in their graves await 
Their resurrection. 
#* * * # # #^ 

In bright alcoves, 
In woodland cottages with barky walls. 
In noisome cells of the tum.ultuous town. 
Mothers have clasped with joy the new-born babe. 
Graves by the lonely forest, by the shore 
Of rivers and of ocean, by the ways 
Of the thronged city, have been hollowed out 
And filled, and closed. This day hath parted friends 
That ne'er before were parted ; it hath knit 
New friendships ; it hath seen the maiden plight 
Her faith, and trust her peace to him who long 
Had wooed: and it hath heard, from lips which late 
Were eloquent of kve, the first harsh word. 
That told the wedded one her peace was flown. 



192 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

Farewell to the sweet sunshine ! One glad day- 
Is added now to Childhood's merry days, 
And one calm day to those of quiet Age. 
Still the fleet hours run on ; and as I lean, 
Amid the thickening darkness, lamps are lit, 
By those who watch the dead, and those who twine 
Flowers for the bride. The mother from the eyes 
Of her sick infant shades the painful light, 
And sadly listens to his quick-drawn breath. 

Oh thou great Movement of the Universe, 
Or Change, or Flight of Time — for ye are one ! 
That bearest, silently, this visible scene 
Into night's shadow and the streaming rays 
Of ♦starlight, whither art thou bearing me ? 
I feel the mighty current sweep me on, 
Yet know not whither. Man foretells afar 
The courses of the stars ; the very hour 
. He knows \yhen they shall darken or grow bright : 
Yet doth the eclipse of Sorrow and of Death 
Come unfo re warned. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson, a Unitarian minister not now ex- 
ercising his profession, merits a more particular mention, 
though he has published but two small volumes of verse and 
prose. He is the most original man produced by the United 
States up to this day. 

He is not like Channing, nor Prescott, nor Irving. Dr. 
Channing, known by a remarkable essay upon Milton and 
Napoleon, wants clearness and measure in his thought, and 
sacrifices to sonorous pomposity, those serious advantage^ of 
prose, solidity and concentration. The charming style of 
Washington Irving has both monotony and mannerism. Pres- 
cott, author of a good History of Isabella the Catholic, pro- 
cured in Spain original and authentic documents from which 
he has made a wise and complete composition, not overdrawn, 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE, 193 

and powerful ; one is interested additionally in a work, dic- 
tated by a blind father to his daughter who has arranged the 
materials under the paternal direction. Irving is of the 
school of Addison, Channing imitates Burke, Prescott is 
modeled upon Robertson, Emerson resembles Carlyle without 
copying him ; his ideas are analagous though often more 
hazardous ; — the reconciliation of the reforming and conserva- 
tive minds, morality carried into industry, human dignity 
restored to the blind masses, and the hideous sentiment of 
envy driven back to its lurking place. Emerson has published 
in prose, only a little volume called " Essays" — which, when 
they fell into the hands of Carlyle so struck him by the anal- 
ogy of their thought with his own, that he published the 
little volume in London, where it met with considerable 
success. 

Some of Emerson's poems are charming. A littl^. piece 
*' To the Bee," delicious in its way, is almost worthy of 
Milton. Through wood and valley goes the bee, happy, 
active, disdaining whatsoever is malevolent and ugly, seeking 
the sunlight, the odorous solitudes, the hidden perfumes, the 
murmur of running brooks, humming through sheen and 
fragrance. Nothing is more vivid than this picture, a mystic 
sense and a concealed view of philosophy wind through the 
luxurious gracefulness of the images. The very rhythm and 
melody reproduce the golden flight of the bee through the 
rich foliage. 

Thou in sunny solitudes, 
Rover of the underwoods, 
The green silence dost displace 
With thy mellow, breezy bass. 

Nor will we destroy by a translation so delicate a combination 
of music, form, color and philosophy. 



194 OniGIN AND PROGRESS, 

More varied than Bryant and Emerson, Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow, now professor of Modern Literature at Harvard 
University, was brought up in Europe and has travelled in 
Sweden and Denmark. The modern Scandinavian genius 
se'ems to have exercised great influence over his thought. 
Severe intellectual beauty, a peculiar sweetness of expression 
and rhythm distinguishes his verse, especially the " Voices 
of the Night." 

He is a " moonlight" poet, say the Americans, and attracts 
the soul by his sad, sweet grandeur. The effect of his verse 
is often strange, and the colors are so transparent that senti- 
mental romance would willingly claim the merit of them. 

No one among the Anglo-Americans has soared higher into 
the middle air of Poesy than Longfellow, whose most touching 
poem we will shortly analyze. 

Little passion, and great calm, approaching to majesty ; a 
sensibility stirred in its very deeps are exhibited in moderated 
vibration and rhythm ; only the Swedish poems of Tegner 
can give an idea of the gentle melody and thoughtful emotion. 
Longfellow appears to us to occupy the first rank among the 
poets of his country ; a distinct savor characterizes him ; as 
you read him you seem to feel the permanent mournfulness of 
the mighty sounds and shadows of the endless prairie and the 
woods which have no history. 



CHAPTEE YI. 

EVANGELINE: AN ACADIAN HISTORY. 



SECTION I. 

HISTORY OF THE ACADIAN COLONY. 

"This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, 
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, 
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, 
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms 
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep- voiced neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest." 

Thus does Evangeline, that singular poem by Longfellow, 
commence. The scene and the actors belong, as the debut 
shows, to the primeval solitudes of the New World. Evangeline 
is a romance, written in hexameter verse and in English upon 
a subject historical and French, and adorned with romantic 
and metaphysical colors by an American of the United 
States. 

It is the end and the beginning of two literatures ; the 
cradle and decline of two poetries ; a faint new dawn above 
an ancient ruin. So go human things, by destruction and 
resurrection, by complication, alliance, and affinity. 

Desirous of renewing its intellectual patrimony, without 
repudiating the wreck of its antique heritage, the Anglo- 



196 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

American race attempts since 1846 to create for itself a per- 
sonal literature and poetry. Irregularity, affectation, want 
of simplicity as to the means, effect sought for but missed ; 
these are faults to be expected and pardoned. Longfellow's 
work as incomplete in its order as the chivalric romances of 
the middle ages, with their irregular and monotonous rhyme, 
and their defective proportions, which take from their value, 
is not the less worthy of serious and attentive examination. 
There we find that worship of native land, that impassioned 
love for the heaven and earth of America, that moral energy 
and that spirit of indomitable enterprise which characterize 
the republican of the States. The sentiment of morality, of 
purity, love of duty, sanctity of the affections and of home, 
profoundly imprinted on this poem, form its deep soul and its 
secret inspiration. All the landscapes are exact ; not only is 
phantasy wanting, but the sentiment born of them is distinct, 
powerful, full of freshness, of novelty, of life ; only the poet 
has drawn them gentle and elegant ; there is no energy. 

Generally speaking, what may be criticised in Longfellow 
comes from the old world. The tokens of vitality and force 
belong to the new. He gives us too many druids, muses, 
and bacchantes ; the looseness of old Europe, and the mytho- 
logic dress float clumsily about the fresh beauties of the child 
of the forest. There is also too much solemnity and majestic 
melancholy. A more rustic, more impassioned tone would 
have suited better for the simple manners of those Normans 
transplanted to the Atlantic shore, whose memories the poet 
wished to recal. Evangeline, the name of a young French 
girl, the heroine, is a first fault ; I will wager that the name 
of the Norman acadienne was Jeannette or Marianne ; daugh- 
ter of a brave, joyous farmer of the colony ; she thought little 
of moonlight, and yet loved her betrothed none the less. 
The true secret of the artist would have been to find the 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. I97 

greatness of passion in the naive delicacies of a young and 
rustic soul, and to make them accord with the greatness of 
Nature : Mr. Longfellow has not gone so far. The Norman 
and Catholic peasant disappears in the puritan, romantic being 
of his creation. Thanks to this transformation, borrowed 
from modern second-rate poets— a defect which is seen 
throughout the whole work— the old crucifix and the old 
portmanteau become household gods ! Here, as in many other 
quarters, simplicity had been supreme art. 

But it is time to speak of the heroine, since there is a 
heroine. As to the subject, it is charming and far preferable 
to that of the Louise of Voss, or the Hermann and Dorothea 
of Gothe. 

At the end of the world, near Saint-Pierre-de-Miquelon, 
between latitudes 43 and 54, longitudes 63 and 68, there 
still exists a small French colony, or rather, the last fragment 
of a Franco-Norman colony of the seventeenth century. Here 
as in Upper Canada, not only do the manners and language 
belong to the epoch of Louis XIY., but they speak the lan- 
guage of Olivier Basselin, and those huge cauchois caps, those 
reversed boats, with floating sails, appear in their primitive 
glory. The original type of the race is there intact. " The 
women are tall and handsome," says the sagacious observer, 
Judge Haliburton ; " the Norman profile still exists in all its 
hereditary vigor and delicacy; the men are gay, active, 
vigorous, ingenious, and brave. They cannot read ; and they 
are always suing each other, not by avidity, but to keep their 
activity in exercise, the mixed Scandinavian and Norman 
character with its energetic elasticity re-appears in them. 
They go joyously to sea, and are indefatigable and adroit cod- 
fishers." Marc Lescarlot, Diereville, and De Chevrier, have 
celebrated, in bad verse, the patriarchal manners and the 
antique virtues of the farmers, fishermen, and shepherds, of 



198 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

whom there remain only about 10,000 in New Scotland — a 
people ignorant of the lights and sciences of civilization, 
possessing little capital, and yet happy in their simple houses. 
Even yet, this little handful holds out against the English 
pression and the diverse population which has invaded their 
country. Often chased away by the English troops, they 
have constantly returned to their fisheries at the earliest 
opportunity. 

The English, wishing to unfrenchify them, gave the name 
of the Mediocre Queen Anne to the Norman town of Port- 
Royal, but in vain — Annapolis exists only on the maps. 

You can easily imagine that our Norman fishermen, being 
good Catholics, had but little love for the English ; and that 
their Puritan neighbors of Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, 
looked with cold eyes upon these French Papists. Therefore 
when, about the beginning of the ISth century, Acadia or 
New Scotland was ceded to the English, these latter found 
much difficulty in subduing the Normans given to them by the 
treaty of Utrecht. 

The fact of the cession of Acadia, apparently so insignificant 
in our annals, is important in the history of the world. It 
signalizes the first movement of our monarchical and European 
decay, and of the superiority taken by Britannic society, 
representing northern force and northern Protestantism. In 
1713, after the imprudent wars of Louis XIV., the treaty of 
Utrecht commenced the decline of our power. In the south, 
we lost Pignerol and the passage of the Alps ; in the north, 
the Keys of the Low Countries, and the line of fortresses 
erected by Vauban remained ours. Throughout the 18th 
century we struggled against decay. In 1735, Lorraine and 
Bar were reunited to France ; in 1739 we had military 
occupation of Corsica ; Minorca was retaken in 1745, and in 
1748 we reconquered a little influence in Italy, but these 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 199 

were but partial endeavors, efforts to keep hold of vanishing 
power. In 1713 we ceded to England, Newfoundland and 
that little, fertile Acadia of which we are now speaking ; it is 
true that we still kept nearly all the Antilles, Canada, 
Louisiana, that is, much of North America from the mouth 
of the Saint Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico. England in 
1740 owned but a thin line of coast from Frederickston to 
Florida, about the twentieth part of our Canadian possessions. 
The coasts of Hindostan were yet ours ; the rajahs were our 
vassals, and England had in India, but two unimportant estab- 
lishments. Madagascar, Gorea, Senegal, Isle of France, Isle 
of Bourbon and St. Mary's still belonged to us. 

Such was the power of France in the world about the 
middle of the 18th century. 

One hundred years flow by, and all is ruined. Our insti- 
tutions change ; the phenomenal rule of Napoleon succeeds to 
the extraordinary drama of the Revolution. Look at the map 
of the world in 1830: all our possessions have disappeared: 
North America, from the Esquimaux to Newfoundland, and 
Hindostan, except a few square leagues. We have lost in 
Europe the line of fortresses which protected us on the 
north, and the important Minorca in the south ; we have 
gained two cities, Mulhouse and Avignon, and a corner of 
Africa, Algeria. All our strength has been needed for our 
intestine struggles, our forensic combats, our ministerial 
changes, our attempts at social regeneration. During this 
time, England has maintained, with vigilant care, the internal 
peace of her territory ; she has thrown out afar the threads 
of her power, as the spider throws out and fixes the threads 
of his web : she has worked incessantly at this tissue so 
colossal, at this measureless increase. It is very sad for a 
Frenchman to examine these two lines of conduct, so full of 
fearful lessons : — here the sovereign power of law and disci- 



lOO OKIGIN and prog HESS OF 

pline ; — there the numberless faults which have effectuated 
our decay ; and the greatest of which is our stupid subservi- 
ence to rhetoricians ; the second, our incapacity to submit to 
discipline, creator of great nations ; and the last our want of 
power to love the law, which is the active symbol of the 
Divine justice and order in the affairs of this world. Love of 
law and tradition is preserved in England, thanks to which 
the Anglo-Saxon race has overspread the world. To- 
day they have a girdle round the earth, commencing at 
Bank's Peninsula, passing Australia, Hindostan, Cape of 
Good Hope, St. Helena, Sierra Leone, and Gibraltar ; then 
crossing the Atlantic by Trinity, Jamaica, the Bermudas, 
it reaches North America, and touches the Pole at Melville's 
Island — this is the result of the interior peace, and of the 
gigantic external labor of the Anglo-Saxon. 

The Acadian Normans, who were not far seeing, nor great 
politicians, were yet very good Frenchmen ; and resisted 
England vigorously. 

Never would they march with the Protestant armies, nor 
fight against their Canadian brethren ; it was simply sublime ; 
our history does not speak of it. At first there came a great 
number of English colonists, who settled in 1749 at Chibouc- 
tou, which they changed into Halifax. Then, by prizes and 
grants of land, they attracted all the adventurers whom they 
could seduce, in hopes to destroy or break the spirit of this 
obstinate race. It had too cruel enemies in the Puritans of 
Boston, and, at their head, the philanthropist, Benjamin 
Franklin, who wrote to a correspondent at London, " TVe 
shall never prosper until we are disembarrassed of our French, 
neighbors.'^'' Chatham, then minister, a man of ambitious 
and violent genius, knew that he would be popular in London 
if he would smite the French Catholics, and he yielded to the 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 201 

desires of Franklin. He issued the most abominable order of 
which political history makes mention. 

On the 5th of September, 1655, the bell convoked all the 
inhabitants of the commune into the church of Port-Royal, 
which was soon filled with unarmed men. The women 
waited outside in the cemetery. An English regiment, with 
fixed bayonets, preceded by their drums, entered the sacred 
place. After the roll had been beaten. Governor Lawrence 
mounted the steps of the altar, and read the royal commission, 
countersigned by Chatham. 

" You are convoked," said he, in English, to the Acadians, 
" by the order of Her Majesty. Her clemency towards you 
has been great ; you know how you have replied to it. The 
task which I have to accomplish is painful and repugnant to 
me ; but it is urgent and inevitable ; I must fulfil the will of 
Her Majesty. All your goods, domains, flocks, lands, 
fisheries, pasturages, houses, and cattle, are, and remain con- 
fiscated to the profit of the crown. You are condemned to 
transportation in the other provinces, according to tbe good 
will of the monarch. You are prisoners." 

The Acadians were unarmed and defenceless. Could they 
have foreseen so barbarous and unheard-of a proceeding, they 
would have called to their aid eight Indian tribes, who were 
devoted to them, and who would have aided them with arms, 
or to find an asylum in the great forest. Five days only were 
given to them. The soldiers commissioned to guard them 
set fire to their houses, barns, and the church ; they barely 
left some clothincj and a little furniture to this agricultural 
and fishing people. As they found in all the houses signs of 
idolatry, that is, the cross of the Saviour, and an image of 
St. Mary the Virgin, Anglican fanaticism urged on by the 
neighboring Puritans, pushed barbarity to atrocity. Children 
were separated from their mothers, husbands from their wives. 
9* 



202 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

The despair of the aged, the resistance of the men, the cries 
and tears of the women were powerless. " It was," says Mr. 
Haliburton, " a spectacle more horrible than the sack of 
Parga, an act, the memory of which is profoundly kept in 
this part of America, and which not a little contributed to 
excite republican hatred against the partizans of British 
royalty." 

Yet the movers of this execrable persecution were the 
patriots, Chatham and Franklin ; the instruments of this 
vengeance upon the Catholics were Presbyterian and Anglican 
soldiers. Prejudice does not reason. 

The condemned departed. Their fair orchards, their 
French habitations, their enclosures of Norman apple-trees, 
their rich pastures, the dikes which they had raised to protect 
their lands from inundation, were abandoned. As the 
frigates which carried these 15,000 poor Frenchmen away, 
set sail for Frederickstown, the light of their burning homes 
was reflected upon their persons, and reddened the waters of 
the sea. The last touch was given to this barbarism by 
setting them ashore, here and there upon the beach, like 
impure beasts who ought to be lost, the father far from the son, 
the mother from her child. They found each other again as 
best they could ; none but themselves cared for that ; any- 
thing was good enough for Frenchmen and Catholics. The 
amiable Franklin did not raise his voice ; the philanthropy of 
the Quakers was not indignant ; Voltaire did not disquiet 
himself ; Boston Puritans, and gentlemen of Versailles had 
something else to attend to. 

These poor heroic Normans, protected by their courage, 
formed here and there, little groups which prospered, thanks 
to God ! Moral energy and religious perseverance are power- 
ful aids. You can still see the wreck of an Acadian Colony 
at Saint Domingo, in French Guyana and in Louisiana where 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 203 

their colonies were very flourishing. Even at Port-E,oyal 
some few obstinately returned, established themselves despite 
the English, and regained their ancient farms. About twenty 
embarked for France, and cleared those grey and roseate 
heaths which hido a fertile soil not far from Chatellerault. 
In 1820, five chiefs of these Norman-Acadian families, claimed 
and received from the Chamber of Deputies, a small pension, 
promised by the National Assembly, and which had ceased to 
be paid ; such good patriots are we, so grateful for grand 
deeds, since talkers govern us, philanthropists enrich us, and 
advocates reconstitute us every ten years. 

You are perhaps astonished that Chatham should have 
ordered this infamous affair, and that the worthy Franklin 
should have approved of it. Many incredulous people must 
resign themselves to historic proofs which are irrefragable ; to 
what end would be the art of writing and thinking if justice were 
not rendered now and then. Mr. Macaulay, proves in his 
recent history of England, that the philanthropic William was 
deep in the corruptions and intrigues of the venal court of 
Charles II. Penn excused himself doubtless on the ground 
of good intentions ; such is the human race. The Abbe 
Raynal who looked upon Penn as a god, would have thought 
Mr. Macaulay very hardy, for disturbing his admiration. 

Events which leave such burning traces in the life of 
nations, are soon transformed into legends. The Acadians 
have a very touching legend of their exile, probably true at 
bottom, as all legends are ; it has been treated with talent by 
Longfellow, who has rather over ornamented this rustic and 
ingenuous story. The misfortune of Madame Cottin may some 
day overtake him. She covered with agreeable and tasteful orna- 
ments an interesting Russian tradition : M. Xavier de Maistre 
destroyed the ornaments, took up the subject afresh, and told 
the simple history of the Exiles of Siberia ; told it so well and 



204 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

SO simply, that his narration, a chef-d''(Buvre of our language, 
has caused the book of Madame Cottin to be forgotten. 



SECTION II. 



The Acadians relate, that a young girl of Port-Royal, 
affianced the night before the order of Chatham arrived, and 
sent on board another frigate than that which carried her 
betrothed and her family, was set ashore upon the coasts of 
Pennsylvania, far from her kindred and friends ; an old Cath- 
olic priest disembarked with her, and aided her by his coun- 
cils and cares. They crossed together Delaware, Massachu- 
setts, Maine, in hopes of finding the father and the betrothed 
— they were now and then helped by some good Catholic 
souls, and at last, at the mouth of the Wabash, discovered a 
fragment of their old colony. 

Going on board the boat which carried the wrecks of their 
people, they descended the great Mississippi. It was the 
month of May. The boat, rowed by Acadian oarsmen, fol- 
lowed the yellow current, and bore the troop of exiles, poor 
beings who had lost their country, their kin, their fair prairies 
of Opelousas, and their beloved homes. They were seeking 
their dispersed families, and for many days, floating down 
those dangerous waters, they travelled through the solitudes 
of the profound forest. At night they kindled a fire and en- 
camped upon the shore. Sometimes they encountered a 
rapid, and their bark shot on like an arrow ; sometimes 
they glided into a lagoon, amid green isles covered with 
cotton, and the white pelican stalked beside them. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 205 

Soon a vast horizon was discovered, the landscape grew 
flat ; thej saw the white houses of the planters, the huts of 
the negroes and the dove-cotes. The majestic river curved 
towards the Orient, and the boat entered the hayou of 
Plaquemine. There all changes ; the wandering waters 
spread above the clay soil like a vast coat of roail — the 
cypresses along the bank droop in mournful arches above them ; 
their gloomy boughs covered with eternal moss the black 
banners and draperies of nature's cathedral. No sound, save 
where from time to time is heard the measured plash of the 
heron's foot, or the cry of the screech owl. The cedar and 
the cypress colonnades are blanched by the irregular gleam of 
the moonlight upon the waters ; all is vague, strange, pleasant 
as a dream. 

Evangeline is sad, says the poet, with 



*" Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot be compassed. 

As at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the prairies 

Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrinking mimosa, 
So at the hoof beats of fate, with sad forebodings of evil 

Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom has attained it." 

The voyage of the young girl to Louisiana is told with a 
really admirable truth and sentiment of nature. Yet it is 
spoiled by many affectations and the faded tints of which we 
have already spoken. A more consummate artist would have 
avoided big words, and touches of trivial melancholy, thorns 
of existence^ desert of life^ and particularly the moonlight rev- 
eries. Still the sentiment, the invention, the movement are 
true, powerful, and new. What a delicious picture is that of 
the young girl asleep with her head upon the knee of the old 
priest, while the rowers sing an old French chant, and strike 
in cadence the waters of the Mississippi. " Alas, father," 
says Evangeline, " my love is lost ;" and the old priest 
said: 



206 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

"Talk- not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted ; 

If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning 
Back to their springs like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment, 

That which the fountain sends forth, returns again to the fountain." 

This is doubtless very refined for an old Norman priest, but 
the thought is beautiful and the expression just. 

The poor child, escorted by her guide, looks everywhere for 
some trace of her family and her betrothed. She visits the 
fertile bayous of New Orleans, the green shores of the Dela- 
ware, the sterile and stormy plains that lie at the foot of the 
fOzarks ; from time to time, some gleams of hope appear ; she 
learns that Gabriel has become a trapper. She knows even 
that he has passed her in a boat, one autumn night ; but 
days, months and years pass away. In the search youth has 
faded, Evangeline grows older, becomes a Sister of Mercy, 
and gives up her life to the sick. At last, one day, she finds 
her lover stretched upon a hospital bed and dying ; he opens 
his eyes, sees her, and dies consoled : she soon follows him. 

" Still stands the forest primeval ; but far away from its shadow, 
Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping, 
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic church-yard. 
In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed. 
Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them, 
Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and forever. 
Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy. 
Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their labors. 
Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey ! 

Still stands the forest primeval ; but under the shade of its branches 
Dwells another race, with other customs and language. 
Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic 
Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exile 
Wandered back to their native land to die in its bosom. 
In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom are still busy 



LITERATUUE AND ELOQUENCE. 207 

Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of homespun, 
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story. 
While from its rocky caverns the deep- voiced, neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest." 

There is, in this poem, a singular mingling of the factitious 
and the natural — two contrasting elements, the real and the 
permitted, one moving the heart by its truth, the other wound- 
ing the mind by affectation. All the American portion merits 
praise. We are carried down the vast Mississippi to the 
music of mocking birds. The new, magnificent world is not 
merely described and analyzed, but the poet reproduces it, 
and communicates to the reader its peculiarity, its vivifying 
sap, its inner emotion. We have the " red ears of corn, 
which, signifying lovers, make the girls blush during harvest." 
We have the Mission vespers, sung in the midst of the wil- 
derness ; the Crucifix hangs upon an old oak, only dweller in 
that solitude ; all heads are bared, and the Christ regards 
them with a look of divine pity, while the sound of the even 
song mingles with the rustling of the boughs, and the vine 
clusters droop downward on the forehead of the crucified 
Saviour. We have the hunter's camp, in the same prairies, 
amid seas of verdure, and profound bays of vegetation, whi.ch 
mingled with the wild rose and the purple amorphia, float like 
waves in the light and shade. There go headlong bands of 
buflPaloes, wolves, wild deer, and armies of riderless steeds. 
There, near the rivers, under clusters of holm, a smoke 
announced a robber camp, who stain with blood the solitudes 
of God, and circling above their heads, the vulture expects his 
prey. Then you have the Acadian farmer, a king, like the 
good Evander : then when the twilight comes, and the labor 
hours are over, and stars appear in heaven, you see the flocks 
and herds, with nostrils open, breathing the freshness of the 
night, their heads upon each other's necks : patient and self- 



208 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

important, after them comes the dog, marching right and left 
in his instinctive pride, proud of governing all these, happy 
to be their protector at night, when the wolves howl and the 
lambs tremble. Then the moon rises, and the wagons laden 
with fodder come home. The horses, their manes wet with 
the dews, neigh joyously, and shake with their robust shoul- 
ders the red fringed harness. The patient cows are milked : 
the laugh of the farmer's men is heard, and the singing of 
young girls, and the long lowings of the kine. Then silence, 
and the doors are barred. 

As an American idyll this poem is admirable. All that it 
lacks is passion. The love of the betrothed, its birth and 
progress, are not indicated. It appears that all the ardor of 
the poet's inspiration can direct itself only to the country itself^ 
towards the sublime and virgin nature which surrounds it. 

In this Anglo-American ' poet two tendencies are visible ; 
the one, religious, towards the Catholic creed, towards vaster 
and more liberal Christian ideas : the second, literary, towards 
the Scandinavian Teutonism. His hexameter verse, which 
flows with sad solemnity, is filled with numerous, irregular 
alliterations. 

The first efi"ect of this upon an ear accustomed to the rapid 
English iambics is unpleasant, but one gets used to it. And 
then one endures the echo of the same consonant at the 
beginning and in the middle of words, strange as it is to the 
poetic habits of the South ; you find examples in the old 
Latin and Greek poets, but it is generally avoided by the 
English. 

We in France have never been able to adopt this rhythm, 
although the ridiculous Gruilliaume Cretin tried to naturalize 
it, and which comes from the German Meistersdnger of the 
fifteenth century ; a curious fact, to be found in no history 
of literature. Mr. Longfellow knows Icelandic and Danish 



LITEUATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 200 

and has passed some time on the Scandinavian Peninsula ; 
and, without thinking, he has habituated himself to alliteration, 
an involuntary form with him, voluntary with the old Scalds, 
and still preserving a popular influence in the North. The 
Danish poet, Oehlenschlager has written part of his poem on 
the gods of the North in alliterative verse. 

Ti^giv tvwigne 
Tiael af E^skov 
^t han dig after 
^sfaeld findet, etc. 

So Longfellow, 

i^uller of/ragrance than they 
And as heavy with shadows and night-rfews, 

jffung the Aeart of the maiden, 
The calm and wiagical moonlight 

Seemed to inundate her soul. 

What is strange is that Mr. Longfellow, in writing, never 
noticed these multiplied alliterations which flow spontaneously 
from his pen and fill the poem. This involuntary return of 
English poetry towards its primitive source in the Scan- 
dinavian caves is too curious a fact to be passed over in 
silence. 

Thus then, while old Europe regenerates herself as she can, 
young and less troubled nations are endeavoring art and. 
poetry. Evangeline is not a chef-d^movre, but its beauties 
have the gift of life, future life in them. Here are the 
elements which prevent the death of society and of literature, 
the most correct notions of justice and morality, the most 
ardent and thoughtful love of native land. 



CHAPTEK VII. 
OF CERTAIN AMERICAN NOVELISTS AND TRAVELLERS. 



. SECTION I. 

COMIC ROMANCE TOM STAPLETON PUFFER HOPKINS 

REPLY TO CHARLES DICKENS. 

It is amazing how many frivolous or ironical books have 
issued from the American presses since 1830. The races 
inheriting from old civilization, seeing before them an unknown 
world of industry and politics to conquer and to organise, find 
themselves face to face with ridiculous contrasts, and are 
naturally given to irony. Roman Gaul commenced thus. 

This irony in the United States is still very rude ; it will 
become refined, but at present it is singularly bitter and 
coarse. Readers upon this side of the Atlantic can only feel 
disgust for the odious scenes written by two satiric painters 
of manners, Messrs. Moore and Matthews, authors of Tom 
Stapleton and Puffer Hopkins. I read eagerly these sketches 
of American life by Americans. The impression is a mourn- 
ful one ; it is not popular, but low and aristocratic in the worst 
sense of that word ; faded and corrupted vices, without grace 
or taste ; a coward life which pursues titles, envies fortune, 
rushes upon success. These manners are destitute of purity, 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 211 

passion, simplicity, elegance or greatness— 'tis the lowest 
shopkeeper of Whitehall, transported into gilded drawing- 
rooms, and clumsily borrowing the upper vices without for- 
getting or losing the baser. It is no longer Washington ; it 
has not become Horace Walpole. I cannot express, the 
disdain and grief produced by these crazy and brutal manners, 
which belong by their impurity to the scandalous boudoirs of 
the old world, and smell of the bar-room while claiming to be 
aristocratic. 

Must we look here for the true description of American 
society. Dickens, Marryatt, Mrs. Trollope, Miss Martineau, 
being English, should inspire us with little confidence, yet 
are they much more favorable to America than Messrs. 
Moore and Matthews, whose highly popular novels, published 
in a sheet called the " Brother Jonathan," with horrible 
wood-cuts, give for twelve and a half cents the value of three 
octavo volumes, of three hundred pages each. It is the m 
plus ultra of cheap printing. Let us add that it is impossible 
to see anything uglier than these cheap impressions ; but the 
form is worthy of the matter. There was an idea in Puffer 
Hopki7is, the man of puff, sailing, with full sheet, the seas 
of democracy in the bark of charlatanism and fraud, but the 
grossness of the scenes make the book hideous. Lighter and 
more frivilous, Tom Stapleton accumulates orgies, fights, 
scenes of drunkenness, broken chairs, and falls upon stair- 
eases, mixed with the blackguard scenes and philosophic 
liberties of Compere Matthieu. The author desired to paint 
the deeds of the amiable good-for-naughts of New York : 
nobody would like to trust himself alone with those fellows. 
The club plays a principal part in the drama ; Tom is 
the friend and secret protector of a heroine worthy of him- 
self. When they are not drunk, they fight ; when not 
fighting, they are drunk. All finishes by the hero's profitable 



212 ORIGIN AND PFOGUESS OF 

marriage, a marriage full of dollars, accepted enthusiastically 
by a girl won by strength of wrist. A savage society appears 
in its nakedness, from time to time, through the brutality 
which composes the main tissue of this work. We regret to 
see a brave people, one half of whom burn or hang Abolition- 
ists and then blame them, adopting as a favorite book, a work 
wherein such words are placed in the mouth of the hero. 

" Honesty ! the word is ridiculous, and means nothing. 
Each of us does with as little as possible. Honesty is 
umiatural. There is but one law which governs the universe, 
attraction ; it rules even in inanimate things. In the animate 
creation it is called acquisition, or " theft." The sun would 
attract all the planets, if he were able. A single man would, 
if possible, absorb the enjoyment of all his fellow creatures, 
and would devour them all. There is but one good rule, 
Every man for himself^ and God for us all!'''* 

Here is a frank, open, honest, candid, clearly enunciated 
philosophy. I have always shuddered, less with terror than 
anger, at hearing in a drama, set by Meyerbeer, that cruel 
refrain, Every man for himself^ and God for us all ! The 
Nemeses of savage life rose up before me, dictating those 
words to that frightful choir, and invoking the destruction of 
all human ties. The American Author explains this ferocious 
cry. It is the law of force. Life becomes an universal 
pillage ; the best prey for the strongest, the second best for 
the trickster. O h ye hyena-philosophers ! born to minister 
to Heliogabalus or to Genghis-Khan ! 

If this insurrection against probity, .imagination, poetry, 
and philosophy should become universal, humanity would have 
but one object, to live, and to fight for a living, fruges con- 
sumere nati ; all would then be in harmony. 

On the contrary, as Emerson says, a crusade is wanted 
against the Me, the egotism, the avidity, the robber-brutality 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 213 

of the day, in favor of intelligence and self-devotion. The 
devise of this league shall be, God for each^ and each for all ! 
the device of a great race ; the theme which civilizes — the rest 
should go and rot in the sewers of the last Roman empire. 
The passage which we quoted above shows that this holy 
alliance against egotism and its interests would not be amiss ; 
and France, instead of entering upon the way of fatal sensu- 
ality, should march at the head of this crusade. 

The American authors of light works, people who are not 
worth Franklin for goodness, nor Irving for amenity, nor 
Cooper for force and precision, never miss, no matter how 
vulgar they may be, to take to themselves the title of esquire. 
This little chivalric distinction ornaments the title pages of 
novels full of inexpressible triviality ; and this ardent taste for 
noble titles is found among the most fervent adorers of the 
populace. With his aristocratic leanings the Yankee is suscep- 
tible as a provincial ; he takes fire the instant that a stranger 
suggests an imperfection in America. You could make a 
library of the printed replies to Dickens' Notes. Few of 
these works have as much wit as wrath. The most remark- 
able is called " Change for American JVotes^ by an America?!. 
Lady.-^ But we are afraid that the lady's change is scarcely 
current money. Bitter, without originality, she twists all 
that she knows of the vices and follies of England, and she 
knows very little. " The men," she says, " are coarse, the 
women ill-dressed, the houses all alike, and the eternal brick 
produces ennui." 

Indeed, we fear that the lady has not given Mr. Dickens 
fioll " change.''^ 

Nothing is so trivial as remarks upon the impoliteness of 
custom-house officers, on the multitudes of unfortunates who 
overrun the streets of London, " which" says she, ^' is a col- 
lection of hamlets, not a city !" Such documents give us but 



214 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

poor instruction as to the course of events, the tendency of 
minds, the reality of facets, and the lot in store for England. 
The American lady sees only the surface ; the future hid 
beneath the present, escapes her. Laing, Chambers, Porter, 
and especially the prophetic Carlyle, tell us much more than 
the lady's ^' Change for American Notes." 



SECTION II. 

JOURNALS AND VOYAGES WORKMEN POETS ARCH^OLOGISTS. 

We must look at the republican journals, as well as at the 
New York novels, to get some light upon the obscure Present, 
the singular To-come. Therein are certain instructions as 
to the condition of the Union. In the north the affluence of 
Irish is enormous, they usurp the territory and create an 
Irish America. In the south the " negro makes his master 
tremble." 

This double condition of affairs, often produces sanguinary 
collisions, and the Constitution will get along with them as it 
can. Already the first cut has been made upon the liberty 
of the Press and the liberty of the subject, as well as on the 
laws of probity. Read the Constitution. You will find it 
humane, just, philanthropic, worthy of Franklin and Wash- 
ington. It consecrates the rights of the subject and insures 
his life, it decrees his liberty and that of the press ; and now 
see how this Constitution operates. The public papers are 
full of documents. The Clinton Gazette (May, 1843) tells 
us that " on Friday evening, May 22d, the crowd assembled 
to decide the fate of James — accused of having excited the 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 215 

blacks to insurrection. Some voted for whipping, others for 
hanging. The hanging party had an immense majority. 
The death of James was voted by the mass of the people. 
After the unequivocal expression of this sentiment, James 
was carried to a mulberry tree and hanged upon a branch. 
We" adds the editor, " entirely approve this measure : the 
people acted as was fitting." It was about the sixteenth 
time in six months that the people had so acted. 

So much for personal security. As for the liberty of the 
Press, it is abolished in some places ; the crowd is the 
master ; and one dares not print what the master dislikes. 
A New York journal printed an anti-slavery discourse by 
Channing ; the journal was sold in Charleston ; and at once 
the planters of South Carolina commenced a process against 
its vender, who was obliged to give a thousand dollars bail. 
The bookseller had just received a bale of Dickens' Notes, 
which book does not spare the planters : alarmed, he hastens ; 
to insert the following notice in the city papers : " Dickens' 
book will be submitted to a committee of intelligent members 
of the South Carolina Association. If they approve of it, I 
will sell it, if not, I will not." Now is not this committee an 
embodied " censure of the Press." Not only do these facta 
exist, but they erect themselves into principles and constitute 
a theory. 

I prefer American voyages to most of the other books 
coming from that country, excepting, of course, Emerson, 
Longfellow, Prescott, Irving, etc. The North American is a 
traveller, but you must learn to understand him. If he travel 
in Europe, prejudice, national pride, rancor blind or envenom 
him ; he sees badly ; judges unjustly and makes mistakes. In 
the New World he preserves his simplicity, amid the glories 
of Nature, he reproduces with a truth often piquant and even 
eloquent, his emotions and impressions. 



216 OrJGTN AND PROGRESS OF 

Stevens' " Incidents of Travel in Yucatan^'''^ Silliman's 
" Gallop among American Scenery ^^'' merit to be distinguished. 
Silliman's little volume is indeed a gallop : in that society 
which moves so rapidly, the best books, the most agreeable. 
styles are those which go headlong, careless of philosophy as 
of fine language. There is, in Silliman's Sketches, a magnifi- 
cent picture of Niagara in winter ; an immense palace of ice 
suspended and sparkling, a giant motion arrested in the air 
by magic force, compose one of the most extraordinary spec- 
tacles possible. The touch of the American author is easy, 
rapid and bold ; a little incorrect, but warm, and therefore 
better. 

The manners of Yucatan, the strange habits of. that lost 
country, where Indian customs mingle with feudal souvenirs 
and Spanish traditions, are detailed very truthfully by Mr. 
Stevens. It is probably the book which contains the greatest 
amount of instruction on the interestino; race of the Maceguas, 
indigenous in that part of America. 

The style of this work is not remarkable for compression 
energy, or concentration ; they have a certain valuable,, free 
touch ; and European travellers, so often full of mannerism ; 
valuing themselves upon vastly superior knowledge, have rarely 
the ingenuous vivacity which forms the charm of Audubon, 
Silliman, and Stevens. 

We come now to a piquant American curiosity. The 
Lowell (Massachusetts) factories employ only women, and 
the price of labor is sufficiently high to enable them, after 
the task is done, to retire to their chambers, read, write, 
or issue into open air, armed with a green parasol, and 
promenade with all the airs of a duchess, to the intense 
amazement of English travellers. 

The explanation is simple. Working America needs her 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 21 Y 

arms, until her day of physical labor shall have passed ; it is 
physical labor which repays her, her intellectual toil is merely 
factitious. It is true, she possesses colleges and universities 
whi^h strongly resemble the paste-board decorations which 
Prince Potemkin showed to his empress. We will give one 
example : An American collection, with some pretensions to 
erudition, makes the plural of dives not divites, but diveses^ 
" the diveses of our land." 

Why should Miss Martineau be astonished that the 
demoiselles of Lowell take certain airs ? They are princesses ; 
their blason is that of their country, a steamboat and a 
spinning-jenny. This congregation of Massachusetts spinsters 
had, naturally enough, the idea of forming themselves into an 
academy, and of presenting to the world specimens of their 
talents as story-tellers, romancers, poets. In fact, they are 
women of leisure, these workwomen who realize two or three 
hundred dollars a-year, wear gold watches, hang a dozen silk 
dresses in their wardrobes, and can very well spare some 
moments for gentle melancholy, reverie, and poesy. These 
beguinncs of American industry united to write a sort of 
Mitsen-almanackj under the title of the Lowell Offeri7ig. 

There you will find all the ideas that can present them- 
selves to idle girls; prose, verse, odes, sonnets, love, caprice, 
caves, spectres, clouds, and turrets ; a singular mixture of 
blue-stockingism and modern romance. 

Anna, Tabitha, Oriana, Lucinda, Grregoria, Alleghania, 
Atala, Gismunda, Tancreda, Yelleda, (where will the 
pretty names of Arthenice's cabinet bleu find rest ?) sign 
mediocre fragments, the best of which would hardly gain 
admission into the humblest European journal, but which 
taken together are remarkable. 

We have seen in Europe the poetry of working-men, 
10 



218 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

which, between ourselves, has not half the value of good 
bread and good boots. The Americans exhibit the poems of 
working-women, all of which I would unhesitatingly give for 
a pair of well-darned stockings, or a nicelj-hemmed hind- 
kerchief. What is the use of it ? Success to working-meu 
poets, if they make verse at the command of Grod, and preserve 
bright in their hearts the sacred fire of morality, the love of 
nature and of honesty, virile energy, and the power of devo- 
tion ! 

Only one Lowell specimen deserves to be cited. The idea 
is largely extravagant, the style elevated and wild, and if the 
phantasy had fallen into the soul of Jean Paul, instead of 
into that of a factory girl, the German Mystic would have 
given it an immense value. But such as they are, these fancies 
of a brain of eighteen years, of a girl living at the other 
end of the world, are very singular. The piece is called 
No Night, and offers a counterpart to Byron's fearful 
Darkness. In the work of the American girl, the sun never 
sets, the world is fatigued with splendour, and asks of God 
repose, obscurity, and silence. 



Local archaeology has produced somewhat in America. 
No fraction of the United States so small as not to have an 
historian ; no city so small as not to become visible in octavo 
or quarto, with engravings. The chef-d^ceuvre of this particle- 
literature is a History of Beverley, a little town of New 
England, with engravings, plans, charts, and biographies. One 
would hardly have imagined that this honest, little city pos- 
sessed two hundred and three great unknown men. The United 
States, which have no feudal souvenirs, and therefore no 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 219 

history, whoso heroic age was only yesterday, interests itself in 
minutia, which have not even the doubtful importance of 
antiquity, nor the melancholy charm attached to the ruins of 
the Past. 

Farther off than Beverly, Halifax, the capital of New 
Scotland, a city completely stranger to literature, has become 
piqued. Sam Slick, the clock-maker, has constituted himself 
the Addison of this obscure and distant portion of the British 
Dominions. British America begins to have some preten- 
sions. Three volumes called " Colonial Literature,'^'* by Gr. E. 
Young, ('Halifax,) bears witness to these desires. Mr. 
Young repeats what Blair, La Harpe, and Batteux have told 
us too often. Old societies are fertile in philosophy and 
criticism : one would say that these books which come from 
afar, were thought, written and printed in some provincial 
town of England or France. There are some curious facts in 
William Oliver's " Eight Months in Hlinois," an unambitious 
work from the pen of a workingman in Boxburgshire, printed 
in Illinois. An emigrant himself, the author gives counsel to 
those who are to follow him. You see a society just germi- 
nating, a country barely inhabited, great inundated prairies, 
painful cultivation of unploughed soil, and the efforts of a 
distant colonization, with curious and novel details which 
interest you vividly. 

America republishes for twelve and a half cents the guinea 
romances of England : the Pictorial Times furnishes engra- 
vings, which are used in the sheets which go to the West to 
sooth the literary appetite of the settlers and the Chippe- 
ways. Every State of the Union will soon have its history in 
ten volumes : Washington's letters, very wise but very 
insignificant, fill six : Franklin has furnished ten : Jefferson 
and John Quincy Adams will do likewise. 



220 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

There is then no want of volumes. The globe is covered 
with them. Soon the forests will be gone, and they will raise 
pyramids of books which they do not know what to do with. 
A quaint and clever man, the Philoso'phe IncnnnUj Saint 
Martin, asks how one shall get rid of all those books which 
repeat the same idea with a shadow of difference in manner, 
two thousand years hence. And he proposes in one of his 
strangest and least known works, the following burlesque and 
facetious plan. To reduce all existing books to a pap, and 
with this encyclopedic mixture to nourish childhood and 
youth ; clever men and sages are to be the nurses, and are to 
receive as reward a grand spoon, according to the grade 
which each shall attain in this new University — silver spoon, 
gilt spoon, gold spoon — the highest title to be that of Grand 
Spoon ! 

The intellectual and typographical state of the world gives 
some sense to this bit of facetiousness. The literary pap 
seems to be hardening in advance. All the world ^seems to 
write with the same ink, and in some three hundred years, 
God knows how glad people will be to gather the few books 
which have an especial character, and which seem born of a 
human brain, and not of a material mechanism. Ah, what a 
dearth there is of originality, humor, poesy ! 

The present superior men of France, America and Eng- 
land who pretend to great honors, seem afraid to show them- 
selves humorists. Only two or three bold ones dare dream, 
meditate, not dogmatize eternally, but give themselves up 
to caprice, wander through the flowers of thought and enjoy 
liberty. All America has not one humorist. England has 
only Carlyle. Yet, really serious men, men of powerful 
thought never refuse themselves the indulgence of caprice, as 
strong natures risk a too long, too rapid ride beneath the 
noonday sun, so feared by the sickly and the little. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 221 

I have very little faith in excessive gravity and moderation 
of temperament. I do not trust those ladies so virtuous, 
always so stiff, who dread a crease in their dresses, and fear to 
read Moliere at the age of forty. 



CHAPTER VIII. 
SAMUEL SLICK, THE CLOCKMAKER. 



PRIVATE MANNERS OF NORTH AMERICA. 

It is a piquant curiosity, a book and an excellent book, 
composed, printed, and published in one of the most unknown 
cities of the world, between Cape Breton and the Appalachian 
mountains, on the shores of the Atlantic, in the lap of a 
slumbering civilization, discouraged, strangled, deadened 
by the neighborhood of the United States. Who knows of 
the existence of a capital composed of five or six large white 
houses and two or three hundred small red ones, in the fortieth 
degree of north latitude, all ruled by the English viceroy Sir 
George Campbell, governor of New Scotland. 

This capital is called Halifax, and the governor has nothing 
to do. Happy sovereign. Under his windows, an abandoned 
cemetery extends its vast silence, and the new writer pre- 
tends that it is the best possible symbol of the governor's ad- 
ministration. 

In the midst of the ennui which must exist in a society 
without life, future, industry, wealth, emulation, by the sound 
of the murmuring sea, ip a climate now vigorous, now burn- 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 223 

iug, lives, not as you might fancy, a lyric poet, a romantic 
fairy-tale writer, nor yet an epic poet sublime as the ocean, 
hut, what is more rare, a great observer, an original phi- 
losopher. If one were to tell me that a work possessing a 
grain, a single grain, a poor and miserable scruple of originality, 
had appeared in Java or Madagascar, I think I would have the 
courage to learn the language of those countries. Here the 
trouble was less, the harvest more abundant. To enjoy a 
new pleasure it was only necessary to accustom myself to the 
Yankee dialect, a sort of patois composed of subtractions and 
multiplications of syllables, of consonants doubled and vowels 
elided, and not presenting any formidable difficulties. The 
Scottish patois, turned by Burns and Ramsey into a poetical 
language, is an hundred times more difficult. 

It was therefore a cheaply purchased vivid enjoyment. I 
studied Mr. Haliburton's work diligently. In less than a 
week, I understood all the points of the Yankee dialect ; and 
my labor was amusing and useful even in the philologic point 
of view. 

The philologists who cultivate with exemplary patience, 
and with an assiduity, rather meritorious than profitable, the 
garden of Greek, Hebrew, and Persian roots, should occupy 
themselves with the actual changes taking place in modern 
tongues. They would discover some of those most interesting 
facts possible in the science which they cultivate. In lieu of 
operating upon etymologic corpses, they could exercise them- 
selves upon a living subject. It is a pleasure to note, as they 
rise, the variations introduced into language by different peo- 
ple, whether these be in the idiom or the pronunciation. 
We are not uttering hypotheses but realities, not piled up 
theoretic conjectures, but incontestable facts. 

This is the true object of veritable philology. Few think 
so. They edit Celtic dictionaries, but cannot stoop to pick 



224 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

up the words formed or deformed every day under their eyes. 
No Englishman, whom I know of, dreams of collecting in a 
dictionary all the dialects of his language, which are now 
fcitois^ or hrogueSj and cannot claim the title of separate tongues 
— the dialects of Cumberland, Lancashire, Sommersetshire, the 
Scottish, Irish, Yankee, and even the strange jargon of the 
llindoostanee half-breeds. Mrr Haliburton's book, " The 
Clockmaker," gives at a glance all the American elegancies. 
I have said, it is a remarkably good book. 

It is not a romance, history, drama, philosophic treatise, 
voyage, story, or declamation ; this patois-book, written by a 
colonist of Halifax, full of adages a la Sancho Panza, and of 
stories worthy of Bonaventure Desperiers, is simply an 
admirable book. The author explains the sketchy, existing' 
civilization of the United States ; the ricketty, unhealthy 
civilization of Canada, and the profound torpor of the neigh- 
boring British provinces. He enters into the secret details 
of private life, and exhibits all which English travellers have 
left in shadow. Nearly all travels in the United States are 
unsatisfactory. An English tory, accustomed to be sur- 
rounded by veneration and respect ; a fashionable actress, 
living on the lucrative enthusiasm of the republicans ; a 
romantic female economist, who regrets that she does not find 
in America, the reality of her illusions, these are guides little 
worthy of esteem or trust ; their observation is but skin-deep : 
they give us but sterile epigrams and frivolous satire, 
instead of any insight into a civilization unexampled in history, 
into a society, scarcely formed, yet of incontestable greatness. 

It cannot be too often repeated to Europe and her pre- 
occupied statesmen, that there are two nations and two territo- 
ries meriting the closest attention ; they are mistresses of 
unknown power ; the future is theirs ; the nations are young, 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 225 

the countries poorly peopled, but they have much to do, and 
they grow rapidly : I speak of America and of Russia. 

Both grow too rapidly to understand the secret of their 
increase : both are too simple to be believed, when they speak 
of themselves. 

The painters, orators, sculptors, poets and historians of the 
United States, keeping their eyes fixed upon Europe, and 
oppressed by her mass of glorious memories, lose the 
courage necessary to draw from a living source personal ideas 
and fresh sentiment. The engraver's art is cold ; the painter's 
disposition methodical ; the preacher's eloquence recalls the 
amplifications of college ; the parliamentary debates offer an 
indefinite succession of pompously vulgar harangues. Com- 
mon-place, that fearful disease of subservient intellect, spreads 
itself like a grey cloud over a literature yet vague, pale, 
difi'use, decrepit, even in its cradle. The muse repeats with 
flat sweetness, Cowper's mournfulness, Wordsworth's morality. 
The local patriotism of each province, condemns the hi.storian 
to a minute and slow exactitude, which forbids him to write 
annals, but allows inventories, and devotes six volumes to the 
genealogy of Pittsburgh or Nashville, and six others to 
explanatory documents. "When, lately, the Quarterly Review, 
in its sympathy for Brother Jonathan, attempted to laud the 
talent of American Orators, the editor produced a pleasant 
contradiction ; the lie was constantly given to his predeter- 
mined eulogy, by the fragments which he was compelled to 
cite. There were oceans of words rolling over deserts of 
ideas ; metaphors rained in torrents, melodramatically thun- 
derous expressions sounded in the solitude and mist ; nothing 
was new, nor simple, nor energetic, nor delicate, hardly an 
idea of measure and of numbers. Absence of taste would 
not be astonishing in a nation just trying its wings ; but one 
9* 



226 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

is surprised to miss hardihood, spontaneous effort, and gran- 
deur of style or of ideas. 

Yet its founders were energetic. Between Florida and 
Maine, the Atlantic and the Rocky Mountains, live the 
republicans, the sons of Washington, the grandsons of the 
indomitable Puritans, the great-grandsons of the Saxon and 
the Teuton. The energetic activity which for years has 
precipitated the movement of these athletas, has not yet lost 
its first impulse. Everywhere they build bridges, raise cities, 
dig canals, the steam engine flies, popular assemblies are 
formed, new districts are won from savage life, the wilderness 
yields, the prairies are cultivated, the forests cleared, ports 
open, manufactures spring up from the earth, and the triumph 
of Saxon civilization goes on. Clearly the heroes of this 
triumph have no lack of genius, but they do not write it ; 
they use it. Now thoy are in the moloe of industry, in the 
heat of the battle, and so will they be for some time to come. 
Thinking, is for the idle man. These people have no time. 
Their literature is factitious and not their own ; they have no 
national leisure, that essential basis for a national literature. 
They do not yet get the impression of that grand Nature 
which surrounds them, or if they do it, it has no force : 
nothing concentrates it in that ardent and silent furnace 
which by a grand alchemy, transforming sensation and 
thought, gives birth to Art, Poetry, Eloquence, and, diadem 
of an achieved society, crowns a ripened people. 

They then are not to be consulted, for they do not yet 
understand themselves. Nor is it their aristocratic enemies 
who love to deny the power of the democrats once their 
colonists. 

In the work under consideration, Mr. Haliburton supposes 
an Englishman travelling in British America, to meet a 
clockmakcr, Sam Slick of Slicksville in Connecticut ; and 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 227 

they journey together. Sometimes in a light wagon, some- 
times on horseback. Slick and his new friend visit New 
Scotland, Acadia, Maine, and all that portion of North 
America disputed for by Great Britain and the States. 
They knock at the door of the cabin, visit the farm, halt at 
the taverns ; lose no occasion of involuntarily judging men, 
themselves unobserved. None of the originalities or singu- 
larities of this new society escape Slick. He trades with 
everybody, and, thanks to his ready speech, he sells an 
enormous quantity of wooden clocks ; above all he boasts of 
knowing human nature. And how he judges men and things ! 

Since the personages of Sir Walter Scott, nothing has been 
better done than this character of Sam Slick. This Connec- 
ticut Clock Pedlar, is an excellent and clever creature ; 
without cleverness in our way, that old cleverness turned 
rather rancid and stale, withered by its transformations, its 
passage through college, Rome, Greece, Egypt and some 
thirty ages of affiliation ; but a naive, native cleverness, which 
comes from experience, as the spark comes, gleaming, from 
the flint, vivid, short, penetrating, not troubling itself about 
words; a republican Parnurge 

This man travels through the States, leaving on the road, 
for ready money, his wooden clocks. His nose is pointed, his 
forehead high, its form erect and well-formed, his embrowned 
face smiles through its freckles, his eye gleams with penetra- 
tion and with vanity. He unites the qualities of the merchant, 
the traveller, the diplomatist, the courtier, and the savage. 
Member of a society which admits no masters, yet possesses 
nothing but masters, he flatters everybody, sure of deceiving 
them. Active, industrious, vigorous and inflexible in mind 
and body, he yields to no one, has need of no one. In a 
commercial country, which exists and grows only by a 
continued effort of agriculture, industry and trade, he knows 



228 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

that it is to everybody's interest to respect the law ; therefore 
he has all the honesty of the merchant, the regularity of the 
banker, and the exactitude of the clerk. He never cheats 
his customers ; he takes them in. His pleasure is to make use 
of his penetration to induce them to dupe themselves ; he has 
marvelous traps for the cupidity of others ; he is ravished 
when a customer, trying to dupe him, cheats himself. He 
excels, in lending a charm to the speculation of his fellow- 
citizens, in exciting their desire, irritating their ardor, to hide 
the book for a moment, then to let it reappear, and to entic3 
them by a prey of which they soon become the prey. He 
does not catch any one ; he is not so foolish. He plays the 
simple, an excellent role in life, yet manages to make the 
others catch themselves. Were he less boastful and less 
patriotic you might take him for a Norman ; less crafty and 
litigious for a Gascon. But such as he is, he is delicious. 

Sara Slick has not married : it is, he says, too hazardous a 
market, he only speculates where he is sure. The graces of 
the fair sex move him, and he yields to their seductions but 
moderately, master of his passions and his tastes, and enjoy- 
ing life, American fjishion, witl^out risking his capital. This 
portion of practical and experimental good sense is sharpened 
in him by the habit of trade : he loves his horse without feeble- 
ness ; courts the beauties on the road without endangering 
his heart ; likes his grog or his mint-julep, but never gfets 
drunk. He is a sage. One regrets that he is tricky. But 
what will you have } 'Tis commerce. "Would you compare 
him with Sancho, he is less ingenuous and farther advanced ; 
a Sancho who may not have a Don Quixotte. No deceptive 
imagination, no distant illusion can get Sam Slick out of the 
track of interested observation, calculating flattery, and com- 
mercial seduction. It is to him rather an art than a trade, 
he loves the philosophy of it more even than the profits. He 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 229 

despises men because he deceives them so often, which uplifts 
him in his own eyes. 

He spreads his nets like a hunter or a politician, preferring 
success to profit. When the fish is taken, the angling finish- 
ed, and the money in his pocket, he laughs less from avarice 
than self-love, and then he examines piece by piece, with 
charmed eye, that thousand-wheeled clock, that soul whereof 
the mainspring is self. His analysis is worth more than those 
of Dugald Stewart or Emanuel Kant. He sincerely loves his 
country, of which the institutions, in perfecting the fine facul- 
ties of which we speak, has made of this Clockmaker a na- 
tional personage, a symbol, a resumption, a type. But his 
patriotism does not blind him. Ultra- American, vehement 
friend of the federal republic, despising other nations, certain 
of a superiority which place the United States immeasurably 
above Europe, his eyes are nevertheless open to the abuses, 
faults, dangers, and miseries of his country. He reasons 
about them as about everything else, pertinently, coldly, 
without twist or rhetoric, going to the bottom of the matter, 
taking facts for facts and phrases for phrases. When he is 
not trading he relates, smokes, gets on his hobby, and piques 
himself on his clever acts, and laughs at his dupes as he 
touches his faithful horse with the spur, and endoctrinatesthe 
Englishman in his theories, memories, loves, hopes, the con- 
dition of the country, the Americans, Canadians, New Bruns- 
wickers, and Blue Noses^ as he calls the people of New Scot- 
land, a little known province to which by the way Haliburton 
belongs. 

Our Briton and Sam Slick follow the shores of the Atlantic, 
and having run through New Scotland, enter Maine. On 
the road, every individual whom they meet, all the anecdotes 
which the scenes recall to the Clockmaker, all the memories 
with which his experience is armed serve to explain the moral 



230 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

position of the British colonies, and the republican states, 
their past, their present, and their progress. He never 
bothers himself with theory but sticks to facts after the man- 
ner of Franklin, the Socrates of his country. Here you jBnd 
twenty personages better than Cooper's, borrowed not from 
the exceptional life of the wilderness, but from the real society 
which agglomerates and progresses in the scarce-built villages, 
the scattered farms : those actors w^o hold no long discourses 
on politics, religion, commerce, or agriculture represent ex- 
actly the march of interest, and the development of mind. 

Like Sam, they talk Yankee, a patois of calculation, pru- 
dence, interest, commercial speculation, trickiness which 
flutters midway between cheating and probity. As you study 
it, you see how the passions of men enter into the dictionary 
of the people, and by what imperceptible process idioms 
change shapes as they are found in new manners. The Clock- 
maker never answers a question by an assertion positive 
enough to compromise or bind him. Take this sketch. 

*' A man entered the room, carrying a small bundle in his 
hand, tied up in a dirty silk pocket-handkerchief. He was 
dressed in an old suit of rusty black, much the worse for 
wear. His face bore the marks of intemperance, and he 
appeared much fatigued with his journey, which he had per- 
formed alone and on foot. 

^ % % % % % ^ 

" Then, taking a survey of the Clockmaker and myself, 
observed to Mr. Slick that he thought he had seen him 
before. 

" Well, it's not onlikely ; — where .? 

"Ah, that's the question, sir ; I cannot exactly say 
where. 

" Nor I neither 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 231 

" Which way may you be travellin ? Down East I 
expect. 

" Which way are you from then ? Some where down 
South. 

^' The traveller again applied himself to brandy and water. 

" Ahem ! then you are from Lunenburg ? 

" Well, I won't say I warn't at Lunenburg. 

"Ahem ! pretty place that Lunenberg; but they speak 
Dutch. D — n the Dutch ; I hate Dutch ; there's no lan- 
guage like English. 

" Then J suppose you are going to Halifax ? 

" Well, I won't say I won't go to Halifax afore I return, 
neither. 

" A nice town that Halifax — good fish-market there ; but 
they are not like the English fisha'ter all. Halibut is a poor 
substitute for the good old English turbot. Where did you 
say you were from, sir ? 

" I don't gist altogether mind that I said I was from any 
place in partikilar, but from down South last. 

" Ahem ! your health, sir ; perhaps you are like myself, 
sir, a stranger, and have no home ; and, after all, there is 
no home like England. Pray, what part of England are you 
from ? 

" I estimate I'm not from England at all. 

"I'm sorry for you, then ; but where the devil are you 
from ? 

" In a general way folks say I'm from the States. 

" Knock them down then, d — m them. If any man was 
to insult me by calling me a Yankee, I'd kick him ; but the 
Yankees have no seat of honor to kick. If I hadn't been 
thinkin' more of my brandy and water than your answers, I 
might have known you were a Yankee by your miserable 
evasions. They never give a straight answer — there's nothing 



232 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

straight about them, but their long backs, — and he was asleep 
in his chair, overcome by the united effects of the heat, the 
brandy and fatigue." 

Does one speak of the United States, of the Republic, of 
Webster, Clay, Jefferson, John Adams, Bunker-Hill, or the 
heroes of the Revolution, this dialect, which is always bargain- 
making with the thought, this response which juggles half 
their signification, keeping always for itself a concealed pas- 
sage, by which it may wriggle out of its obvious meaning, 
this dialect gives place to positive assertion ; to the most 
comical mixture of shop talk and college emphasis. " Cal- 
culate your best," says Sam, ''it is sartaiu sure that we are 
letter ' A,' No. 1, among the nations ; first column, without 
tare, deduction, subtraction, or damage. I speculate that 
them, who don't agree to that, can't do a sum in simple 
addition, and don't know the first rules of cipherin'. It is 
clear that we have the most splendid location between the 
poles ; it's ginerally acknowledged. The greatest man livin' 
is Creneral Jackson ; he goes ahead of Napoleon Bonaparte 
by a long chalk. I don't mention Van Buren, Webster, 
Amos Kendal, and a whole raft of statesmen, who are up to 
every thing. England can lick the world, and we can lick 
England." This last sentence is the well-beloved of Sam 
Slick, and finishes all his harangues. 

" The folks of Halifax," says Sam, " take it all out in talk- 
ing — they talk of steamboats, whalers, and rail-roads — but 
they all end where they begin — in talk. I don't think I'd be 
out in my latitude, if I was to say they beat the women kind 
at that. One fellow says, I talk of going to England — another 
says, I talk of going to the country — while a third says, I 
talk of going to sleep. If we happen to speak of such things, 
vvc say, ' I'm right off down East ; or I'm away ofi" South,' and 
away we go jist like a streak of lightning 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 283 

" When we want folks to talk, we pay 'em for it, such as 
our ministers, lawyers, and members of Congress ; but then 
we expect the use of their tongues, and not their hands ; and 
when we pay folks to work, we expect the use of their hands, 
and not their tongues. I guess work don't come kind o' na- 
tural to the people of this province, no more than it does to 
a full bred horse. I expect they think they have a little too 
much hlood in 'em for work, for they are near about as proud 
as they are lazy. 

" Now the bees know how to sarve out such chaps, for 
they have their drones too. Well, they reckon its no fun, 
a making honey all summer for these idle critters to eat all 
winter — so they give 'em Lynch Law. They have a regular 
built mob of citizens, and string up the drones like the Vix- 
burg gamblers. Their maxim is, and not a bad one neither, 
I guess, * no work no honey.' " 

" The Blacks and Whites in the States show their teeth 
and snarl, they are jist ready to fall to. The Protestants and 
Catholics begin to lay back their ears, and turn tail for kickin. 
The Abolitionists and Planters are at it like two bulls in a 
pastur. Mob-Law and Lynch-Laio are working like yeast 
in a barrel, and frothing at the bunghole. Nullification and 
Tariff are like a charcoal pit, all covered up, but burning in- 
side, and sending out smoke at every crack, enough to stifle a 
horse. General Government and State Government every 
now and then square off and spar, and the first blow given 
will bring a genuine set-to. Surjplus Revenue is another bone 
of contention ; like a shin of beef thrown among a pack of 
dogs, it will set the whole on 'em by the ears. 

" You have heerd tell of cotton rags dipt in tupentine, 
haven't you, how they produce combustion } Well, I guess 
we have the elements of spontaneous combustion among us in 



234 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

abundance ; when it does break out, if you don't see an erup- 
tion of human gore worse than Etna lava, then I'm mistaken. 
There'll be the very devil to pay, that's a fact. I expect the 
blacks will butcher the Southern whites, and the Northerners 
will have to turn out and butcher them again ; and all this 
shoot, hang, cut, stab, and burn business will sweeten our 
folks' temper, as raw meat does that of a dog — it fairly makes 
me sick to think on it. The explosion may clear the air 
again, and all be tranquil once more, but its an even chance 
if it don't leave us the three steamboat options, to be blown 
sky high, to be scalded to death, or drowned.' 

After this Sam lights his cigar. 

" But," says the other speaker, " the testimony of all my 
friends the travellers is against you." 

" ' Yoior friends P said the Clockmaker, with such a tone 
of ineffable contempt, that I felt a strong inclination to knock 
him down for his insolence — your friends ! Ensigns and 
leftenants, I guess, from the British marchin regiments in 
the colonies, that run over five thousand miles of country in 
five weeks, on leave of absence, and then return, looking as 
wise as the monkey that had seen the world. When they get 
back they are so chock full of knowledge of the Yankees, 
that it runs over of itself, like a hogshead of molasses, rolled 
about in hot wea,ther — a white froth and scum bubbles out 
of the bung ; wishywashy trash they call tours, sketches, 
travels, lettei'S, and what not ; vapid stuff, jist sweet enough 
to catch flies, cockroaches, and half-fledged galls. It puts me 
in mind of my French. I larnt French at night school one 
winter of our minister Joshua Hopewell (he was the most 
larned man of the age, for he taught himself een amost every 
language in Europe ;) well, next spring, when I went to Boston 
1 met a Frenchman, and I began to jabber away French to 
him : * Polly woes a French shay,' says I. I don't under- 



LITERATUJRE AND ELOQUENCE. 235 

stand Yankee yet, says he. You don't understand ! says I, 
why it's French. I guess you didn't expect to hear such good 
French, did you, away down east here ? but we speak it real 
well, and its generally allowed we speak English, too, better 
than the British. ' Oh,' says he, ' you one very droll Yan- 
kee, dat very good joke, sare ; you talk Indian and call it 
French.' But, says I, Mister Mountshear, it is French, I 
vow ; real merchantable, without wainy edge or shakes — all 
clear stuff ; it will pass survey in any market — its ready stuck 
and seasoned. ^ Oh, very like,' say he, bowin as polite as a 
black waiter at New Or kens, ' very like, only I never heerd 
it afore ; oh, very good French dat — clear stuff, no doubt, but 
I no understand — its all my fault, I dare say, sare.' " 

'' The fact is, the American of the United States has funds, 
quickness and good appearance — quick as a fox, supple as an 
eel, sharp as a weasel. I oughtn't to say it, but it's known. 
He eclipses creation ; he's worth ready money." 

At this last expression Sam is silent, eloquence can go no 
further, and he delicately changes the subject. 

But Sam has reason to be proud. Never has the real 
situation of the United States, so dangerous, so flourishing, so 
active, been exhibited so profoundly and simply. And so 
he treats every topic, " My rules," says the philosophical 
Clockmaker, " are not numerous, but they're sure, they go right 
to the point, and that's a fact. Everytlmig can he ci^herecU 
No man nor woman can resist soft sawder. What is that to 
me. With them three rules you can go to the end of the 
world, and no mistake." 

He has not the good nature to profess for political life that 
admiring esteem which we Frenchmen, new to it, bestow upon 
it. " When one is used to politics," he says, " one never goes 
straight ; it's impossible. Politics turns and twists us. You 
can't trust people of that trade. They always walk crooked. 



236 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

like porters with heavy burdens. At last they get bent. 
The politician who is loyal, honest, sincere even to his friends 
is a marvel. Did you ever clean your knives with brick-dust ? 
It is a long and bad way ; the blade gets bright, but the steel 
wears out ; it's so with politics.' 



SECTION II. 

HISTORY OF AHAB MELDRUM, THE KORKONITE. 

Alabama has plenty of those cities, which spring out of the 
earth as if by the blow of an enchanter's rod, which have more 
streets than houses, more houses than inhabitants. There, as 
in the other States, the worship and clergy are not supported 
by the State but by individual contributions. If a minister 
be abandoned by his flock, the church becomes a store-house, 
the parsonage goes to ruin, and that is the end of the matter. 
This is called the " Voluntary System," of which Sam Slick 
has more than one story to tell. 

" I recollect when I was up to Alabama, to one of the new 
cities lately built there, I was awalkin' one mornin' airly out 
o' town to get a leetle fresh air, for the weather was so plaguy 
sultry I could hardly breathe a'most, and I seed a most splen- 
did location there near the road ; a beautiful white two-stoKy 
house, with a grand virandah runnin' all round it, painted 
green, and green vernitians to the winders, and a white pali- 
sade fence in front, lined with a row of Lombardy poplars, 
and two rows of 'em leadin' up to the front door, like two files 
of sodgers with fixt baganuts ; each side of the avenue was a 
grass plot, and a beautiful image of Adam stood in the centre 
of one on 'em — and of Eve, with a fig-leaf apron on, in t'other, 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 237 

made of wood by a native artist, and painted so nateral no soul 
could tell 'em from stone. 

" The avenue was all planked beautiful, and it was lined 
witb flowers in pots and jars, and looked a touch above com- 
mon, I tell yoji. While I was astoppin to look at it, who should 
drive by but the milkman with his cart. Says I, stranger, 
says I, I suppose you don't know who lives here, do you ? I 
guess you are a stranger, said he, ain't you ? Well, says I 
I don't exactly know as I ain't, but who lives here ? The 
Rev. Ahab Meldrum, said he, I reckon. Ahab Meldrum, said 
I, to myself ; I wonder if it can be the Ahab Meldrum I was 
to school with to Slickville, to minister's, when wo was boys. 
It can't be possible it's him, for he was fitter for a State's 
prisoner than a State's preacher, by a long chalk. He was a 
poor stick to make a preacher on, for minister couldn't beat 
nothin' into him a'most, he was so cussed stupid ; but I'll 
see any how ; so I walks right through the gate, and raps 
away at the door, and a tidy, well-rigged nigger help opens 
it, and shows me into a'most an elegant famished room. I 
was most darnted to sit down on the chairs, they were so 
splendid, for fear I should spile 'em. There was mirrors and 
varses, and lamps, and picturs, and crinkum crankums, and 
notions of all sorts and sizes in it. It looked like a bazar 
a'most, it was filled with such an everlastin' sight of curi- 
osities. 

" The room was considerable dark too, for the blinds was 
shot, and I was skear'd to move for fear o' doin' mischief. 
Presently in comes Ahab slowly sailin' in, like a boat drop- 
pin' down stream in a calm, with a pair o' purple slippers on, 
and a figured silk dressin'-gound, and carrying a'most a beau- 
tiful-bound book in his hand. May I presume, says he, to 
inquire who I have the onexpected pleasure of seeing this 
mornin'. If you'll gist through open one o' them are shutters, 



238 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

says I, I guess the light will save us the trouble of axin' 
names. I know who you be by your voice any how, tho' it's 
considerable softer than it was ten years ago. I'm Sam Slick, 
says I, — what left o' me at least. Verily, said he, friend 
Samuel, I'm glad to see you ; and how did you leave that ex- 
cellent man and distinguished scholar, the Rev. Mr. Hopewell, 
and my good friend your father .? Is the old gentleman still 
alive ? if so, he must anow be ripe full of years as he is full 
of honors. Your mother, I think I heer'd was dead — gath- 
ered to her fathers — peace be with her ! — she had a good and 
a kind heart. I loved" her as a child ; but the Lord taketh 
whom he loveth. Ahab, says T, I have but a few minutes to 
stay with you, and if you think to draw the wool over my 
eyes, it might perhaps take you a longer time than you are 
thinking on, or than I have to spare ; — there are some friends 
you've forgot to inquire after tho', — there's Polly Bacon and 
her little boy. 

" Spare me, Samuel, spare me, my friend, says he ; open not 
that wound afresh, I beseech thee. Well, says I, none o'your 
nonsense then ; show me into a room where I can spit, and 
feel to home, and put my feet upon the chairs without adam- 
agin' things, and I'll sit and smoke and chat with you a few 
minutes ; in fact, I don't care if I stop and breakfast with 
you, for I feci considerable peckish this mornin'. Sam, says 
he, atakin' hold of my hand, you were always right up and 
down, and as straight as a shingle in your dealin's. I can trust 
yoiOj I know, but mind — and he put his fingers on his lips — 
mum is the word ; — bye gones are bye gones — you wouldn't 
blow an old chum among his friends, would you ? I scorn a 
nasty, dirty, mean action, says I, as I do a nigger. Come, 
foller me, then, says he ; — and he led me into a back room, 
with an oncarpeted painted floor, famished plain, and some 
shelves in it, with books and pipes and cigars, pig-tail and 



-LTTERATUPvE AND ELOQUENCE. 239 

what not. Hero's libertj-hall, said he ; chew, or smoke, or 
spit as you please ; — do as you like here ; we'll throw off all 
resarve now ; but mind that cursed nigger ; he has 'a foot like 
a cat, and an ear for every keyhole — don't talk too loud. 

" Well, Sam, said he, I'm glad to see you too, my boy ; it 
put's me in mind of old times. Many's the lark you and I 
have had together in Slickville, when old Hunks — (it made 
me start, that he meant Mr. Hopewell, and it made me feel 
kinder dandry at him, for I wouldn't let any one speak disre- 
spectful of him afore me for nothin', I know,) — when old 
Hunks thought we was abed. Them was happy days — the 
days o' light heels and light hearts. I often think on 'em, 
and think on 'em too with pleasure. Well, Ahab, says T, I 
don't gist altogether know as I do ; there are some things we 
might gist as well a'most have left alone, I reckon ; but 
what's done is done, that's a fact. Ahem ! said he, so loud, I 
looked round and I seed two niggers bringin' in the break- 
fast, and a grand one it was — tea and coffee and Indgian 
corn cakes, and hot bread and cold bread, fish, fowl, and 
flesh, roasted, boiled, and fried ; presarves, pickles, fruits ; in 
short, everything a'most you could think on. You needn't 
wait, said Ahab, to the blacks ; I'll ring for you, when I want 
you ; we'll help ourselves. 

" Well, when I looked round and seed this critter alivin' this 
way, on the fat o' the land, up to his knees in clover like, it 
did pose me considerable to know how he worked it so cleverly, 
for he was thought always, as a boy, to be rather more than 
half onder-baked, considerable soft-like. So says I, Ahab, 
says I, I calculate you'r like the cat we used to throw out of 
minister's garret-winder, when we was aboardin' there to 
school. How so, Sam ? said he. Why, says I, you always 
seem to come on your feet some how or other. You have got 
a plaguy nice thing of it here ; that's a fact, and no mistake 



240 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

(the critter had three thousand dollars a year) ; how on airth 
did you manage it ? T wish in my heart I had ataken up the 
trade o' preachin' too ; when it does hit it does capitally, 
that's sartain. Why, says he, if you'll promise not to let on 
to any one about it, I'll tell you. I'll keep dark about it, 
you may depend, says I. I'm not a man that can't keep 
nothin' in my gizzard, but go right off and blart out all I hear. 
I know a thing worth two o' that, I guess. Well, says he, 
it's done by a new rule I made in grammar — the feminine 
gender is more worthy than the neuter, and the neuter more 
worthy than the masculine ; I gist soft sawder the women. 
It 'taint every man will let you tickle him ; and if you do, 
he'll make faces at you enough to frighten you into fits ; but 
tickle his wife, and it's electrical — he'll laugh like anything. 
They are the forred wheels, start them, and the hind ones 
foller of course. Now it's mostly women that tend meetin' 
here ; the men-folks have their politics and trade to talk 
over, and what not, and ain't time ; but the ladies go consid- 
erable rigular, and we have to depend on them, the dear 
critters. I gist lay myself out to get the blind side o' them, 
and I sugar and gild the pill so as to make it pretty to look at 
and easy to swaller. Last Lord's day, for instance, I preached 
on the death of the widder's son. Well, I drew such a pictur 
of the lone watch at the sick bed, the patience, the kindness, 
the tenderness of women's hearts, their forgiving disposition 
— (the Lord forgive me for saying so, tho', for if there is a 
created critter that never forgives, it's a woman ; they seem to 
forgive a wound on their pride, and it skins over and looks all 
healed up like, but touch 'em on the sore spot agin, and see 
how cute their memory is) — their sweet temper, soothers of 
grief, dispensers of joy, ministrin' angels. I make all the 
virtues of the feminine gender always — then I wound up with 
a quotation from Walter Scott. They all like poetry, do the 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 241 

ladies, and Shakspeare, Scott, and Byron are aniazin' favor- 
ites ; they go down much better than them old-fashioned 
staves o' Watts. 

* Oh, woman, in our hour of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
And variable as the shade 
By the light quivering aspen made ; 
When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
A ministering angel thou.' 

If I di(?n't touch it off to the nines it's a pity. I never heerd 
you preach so well, pays one, since you was located here. 
I drew fiora natur', says I, a squeezin' of her hand. Nor 
never so touchin', says another. You know my moddle, says 
I, lookin' spooney on her. I fairly shed tears, said a third ; 
how often have you drawn them from me ! says I. So true, 
says they, and so nateral, and truth and natur' is what we 
call eloquence. I feel quite proud, says I, and considerable 
elated, my admired sisters, — for who can judo-e so well as the 
ladies of the truth of the description of their own virtues ? 
I must say, I felt somehow kinder inadequate to the task too, 
I said, — for the depth and strength of beauty of the female 
heart passes all understandin'. 

"When I left 'em I heerd 'em say, ain't he a dear man, a 
ferlin' man, a sweet critter, a'most a splendid preacher ; none 
o' your mere moral lecturers, but a rael right down genuine 
gospel preacher. Next day I received to the tune of one 
hundred dollars in cash, and fifty dollars produce^ presents 
from one and another. The truth is, if a minister wants to 
be popular he should remain single, for then the gals all have 
a chance for him ; but the moment he marries he's up a tree, 
his flint is fixed then ; you may depend it's gone goose with 
11 



242 ORIGIN AXD PROGRESS. 

them arter that ; that's a fact. No, Sam ; they are the pillars 
of the temple, the dear little critters. — And I'll give yoa a 
wrinkle for your horn, perhaps you ain't got yet, and it may 
be some use to you when you go down atradin' with the be- 
nighted colonists in the outlandish British provinces. The 
road to the head lies through the heart. Pocket, you mean, 
instead of head, I guess, said I ; and if you don't travel that 
road full chissel it's a pity. — Well, says I, Ahab, when I go 
to Slickville I'll gist tell Mr. Hopewell what a most precious 
superfine, superior darn'd rascal you have turned out.; if you 
ain't No. 1, letter A, I want to know who is, that's all. You 
do beat all, Sam, said he ; it's the system thafs vicious^ and 
not the 'preacher. If I didn't give 'em the soft sawder they 
would neither pay me nor hear me ; that's a fact. Are you 
so soft in the horn now, Sam, as to suppose that the gals 
would take the trouble to come to hear me tell 'em of their 
corrupt natur' and fallen condition ; and first thank me, and 
then pay me for it I Very entertainin' that, to tell 'em the 
worms will fatten on their pretty little rosy cheeks, and that 
their sweet plump flesh is nothin' but grass, flourishin' to day, 
and to be cut down withered and rotten to-morrow ; ain't it ^ 
It ain't in the natur' o' things, if I put them out o' concait 
o' themselves, I can put them in concait o' me ; or that they 
will come down handsome, and do the thing ginteel, its gist 
onpossible. It warn't me made the system, but the system 
made me. The voluntary don''t work well. 

System or no system, said T, Ahab, you are Ahab still, and 
Ahab you'll be to the eend of the chapter. You may decaive 
the women by soft sawder, and yourself by talkin' about sys- 
tems, but you won't walk into me so easy, I know. It ain't 
pretty at all. Now, said I, Ahab, 1 told you I wouldn't blow 
you, nor will I. I will neither speak o' things past nor things 
Dresent I know you wouldn't, Sam, said he; you were 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 243 

always a good feller. But its on one condition, says I, and 
that is that you allow Polly Bacon a hundred dollars a-year 
— she was a good gall and a decent gall when you first 
know'd her, and she's in great distress now at Slickville, I tell 
you. That's onfair, that's onkind, Sam, said he ; that's not 
the clean thing ; I can't afford it ; it's a breach o' confidence 
this, hut you got me on the hip, and I can't help myself; say 
fifty dollars, and I will. Done,- said I, and mind you're up to 
the notch, for I'm in earnest — there's no mista.'ce. Depend 
upon me, said he, and, Sam, said he, a shakiu' hands aloug 
with me at partin', — excuse me, my good feller, but I hope I 
may never have the pleasure to see your face ag'in. Ditto, 
says I ; but mind the fifty* dollars a-year, or you will see me 
to a sartinty — good b'ye," 

A year after Sam Slick and his companion found them- 
selves entering Thebes, not the Egyptian nor the Grecian 
city, but a little hamlet formed of five or six wooden houses, 
to which the inhabitants had. given that illustrious name, 
probably with a view to annoy and bother future geographers. 
All the doors were shut, not a man was in the streets. lu 
the midst of the general silence, you saw the mason's trowel 
standing in a heap of mortar, the scaffolding up, the joiner's 
tools as if just laid aside and everything denoting a sudden 
cessation of labor. At last they found a tavern open, and in 
it's only room the tavern-keeper smoking. " I calculate," 
said Sam, entering, " that you ain't the only inhabitant of this 
location." " I reckon not," was the reply, " they are all gone 
to the woods to hear the preacher of the new Korkornites." " I 
guess," says Sam, *' 1 never heard of them fellers afore. 
What is a Korkornite ?" " They can tell you themselves ; I 
don't know. All that I know is, that there's a religious bee, 
which they call a meetia' or a stir.^^ 



244 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF 

" All people have their stimulants : the Chinese take 
opium, the Dutch schiedam, the English gin, the Irish 
•whiskey. Now, we Americans who go ahead, we take 'em 
all, tobacco, rum, green tea, politics, and religious excitement. 
Every new sect has its revival. I've got four children ; the 
first is a Hicksite, the second a Universalist, the third a Social- 
ist, the fourth a Shaker, and I reckon that if I should have a 
fifth he would be a Korkornite." 

Curious to see the aifair, Sam and his companion follow 
the directions of the innkeeper. Near a bridge on the not 
yet cleared property of a settler, and on the edge of a forest, 
the shadows of whose giant trees fell upon the strange scene, 
some twenty wigwam-like tents had been erected, and therein 
were sold liquor, tobacco, and cakes as at a fair. In the 
centre a sort of barn made of planks served for theatre to the 
chiefs of this revival : and their shrill, shrieking voices aroused 
the far echoes of rock, shore, and forest ; some hundreds of 
men seated upon the trunks of felled trees, talked of religion 
or politics, and drank mint-julep or grog while waiting the re- 
turn of their wives and daughters, who filled the barn. Slick 
and the Briton managed to effect an entrance into this, at the 
moment that a person mounted the table which served for pulpit. 
He was meagre, pale, attenuated, hollow-eyed, his head was 
bound in a red handkerchief, which increased his palor, his neck 
was bare ; and his whole mien so mournful and resigned that he 
looked more like a criminal going to be hanged than a minis- 
ter of the gospel. It was unpleasant to look at him. All 
were still. Then he slowly pronounced a few words ; then 
murmured inarticulately, then an axiom or two, raising his 
voice gradually, and then entering upon his subject, which 
was a picture of the fearful tortures reserved for the damned. 
His gestures became animated, his eye kindled, his language 
grew fierce and vehement, he perspired freely, and at last 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 245 

took ojQf his coat. This done, he recommenced his infernal 
description, in which the images, borrowed from all that is 
revolting and hideous in the physical life, inspired so profound 
a disgust, and were so utterly senseless, that Slick and the 
Briton left their places and quitted the barn, while frightened 
women were fainting, howling, and falling hysterically into 
each other's arms. "I speculate," said Sam," that I have 
seen that chap somewhere. He calls himself Concord Fisher, 
but it's a false name, I know." Nor was he wrong. 

The next day this terrible preacher came to the tavern, 
without his red handkerchief. " Samuel," said he, " I 
recognized you yesterday ; and you're just the man I wanted 
to see. I am Ahab Meldrum. My dear friend, we preach 
temperance, for nothing else goes down in these parts ; but it 
is easier to preach than to practice. I can't do any more : for 
heaven's sake give me a glass of brandy. 

^' That's good, I guess," replied Sam, " you etarnal hypo- 
crite. Why the devil can't you drink your brandy like 
everybody else, like a man, hands up, above board, without 
cheating or trickery } I don't like all this parade." 

Nevertheless Sam gave him some of the comfortable liquor, 
and when he saw him a little revived, said : 

" Well, x\hab, what the deuce are you doing here. The last 
time I saw you the preachin' trade was good, and you was doin' 
pretty well with your new rule of grammar that the feminine 
gender is superior to the masculine. Come, don't cry, Ahab, 
what's the use of that.^ Bolt your brandy and tell me all 
about it. 

" Alas," replied Ahab, sobbing, " it didn't end well. The 
fathers and mothers thought that their girls came too often 
to submit their consciences to me and to struggle against the 
evil Spirit. Judge Lynch got under way, and would, I reckon, 
have hung me up at the door according to your republican 



246 ORIGIN AKD PROGRESS OF 

ideas of justice, when I got timely notice, and cut my stick. 
Now I am a Korkornite, and have a magnificent success. 
But I lead a deuce of a life, and I kill myself with screaming, 
drinking water, and acting. I reckon I'll become a Socialist. 
They are not hard, and their rule will suit me ; everybody 
does as he likes. What do you think, Sam ? Can one make 
something out of it ? Is it a good thing ? Will it last ? 
When I speculate, I like to have all the chances on my 
side." 

'' Ahab," said Sam, " you make me tremble. You're a 
real devil. Turn farmer or merchant, and quit your preachiu' 
trade." 

" I," cried the now half-intoxicated Ahab, ^' I'll never put 
up with a common trade. Hurrah for Socialism, it's easy, 
it's free, and it's the fashion." And he fell under the 
table. 

It is by this sort of example that Sam Slick initiates the 
reader into the popular genius of the nation. He visits the 
manufactories as a draughtsman, and " takes off the factory 
girls." Politics, the arts, commerce, are his, personified and 
living. It is an excellent method — no hypothesis, but all 
experience. 

What is the result of this laborious- observation, the most 
attentive, profound, and naive, to which the New World has 
ever been submitted .'' It does not generalize certain results, 
and lean upon deductions and conjectures, but penetrates 
into the secrets of manners, discovers the slightest springs 
of the on-going elaboration, and weighs with care all the 
elements which constitute American society. The result is, 
that nothing is as yet complete in these regions, and the for- 
mation now in progress, advancing with a formidable quick- 
ness, devouring time and space, yet ever seeing time and 
space before it, has not yet performed the half of its work. 



LITERATURE AND ELOQUENCE. 247 

We southern Europeans, to whom languishing and degenerate 
Rome bequeathed a language which we afterwards mutilated, 
institutions which we deformed, and memories which we 
adored as pedants — we, wear wrinkles in our cradle. The 
Americans inherit no material civilisation. Behind and 
before them are the forest and the ocean. Therefore their 
physical activity is unlimited. But they are heirs of so much 
intellectual civilization, that it crushes them ; and they can- 
not advance one step upon the way. Directors of industrial 
civilization, they follow intellectual civilization. You must 
study this prodigious movement, and this complete nullity in 
Haliburton's book. 

But by what eccentricity, you will say, do you go to the 
limits of the world, not far from Newfoundland and Labrador, 
to find a book which is not literary, not written in English, 
and does not treat of the great interests of humanity ? The 
life of Tennesee planters. New Scotland colonists, is of very 
little importance to us. What new legislation, what ingenious 
system do you bring us. What new light upon human 
destiny, is formulizedy as the modern thinkers say, in this 
useless work ,? Surely none. But we do not stand in need 
of systems and theories — those baloons floating high and 
low in our atmosphere for our amusement ought to suffice 
us. Continue this easy amusement, the last charm of feeble 
minds, and make plenty of laws ; Europe awaits a great many 
still. Build with enthusiasm those paper edifices, those 
sublime card-castles. Leave to other minds their pleasure. 

Never, until ours, has any epoch been night and day visible 
and transparent in its most secret motions. Now we can hear 
the inner mystery of the world, feel its giant pulsations, 
watch with mournfully ardent interest the palpitations of that 
central and living point, which is the heart of humanity, and 
which is called civilization ; observe whether it be displaced, 



2-18 OIUGIN AND PROGRESS. 

and whither the life goes ; iu a word, we seize as it flie.'^, and 
stenfgraph,. that etnrnailj improvising drama called History, 
which other men will one day try to write, la the olden 
times, the rarest intelligences could not succeed ; men saw but 
two steps before thera. Julius Caesar knew poorly what was 
happening in -Persia and Armenia ; and the internal affairs of 
India and Samothraee were nearly unknown to sovereigo 
Eome. Now, all the springs that move society do their work 
before our eyes ; the world is of crystal. It is a glorious joy 
to listen to the deadened and measured sound of those wheels, 
and to share in those regular transformations, which were 
once taken for unexpected and mysterious phenomena. 

So w*e may leisurely contemplate that easily explicable 
miracle, the peopling and fertilizing of North America ; its 
attraction to itself of the life and force of decaying Europe, 
aud its disposition to destroy all foreign possessions in its 
neighborhood. Vast hive of laborers, storehouse, shop, farm^ 
arsenal, manufactory, workshop, it fancies itself a demo<jracy 
and is only a fabric. Its leisure hours have not yet arrived ; 
the giant does not yet know his strength. But what keeps off 
the solution of the problem is, that America extends its limits 
by the magnetism of example. Texas is hers : the old 
French of Canada incline to be hers ; languishing New Scot- 
land expects a new life, if, in her turn, she become a repubKe. 
So the terms of the problem are multiplied. The other side 
of the seas, all is to come, all is hope, ardor, while on us the 
Past weighs heavily, and we fret ourselves amid the ashes. 

Of the two new and threatening societies now being formed, 
one under the laws of the Czar, the other under the invoca- 
tion of ^Yashington, the more interesting, by its energy, 
traditions, Teutonic descent and free form, is North America.. 



CHAPTEE IX. 

THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA AND OF THE UNITED 
STATES. 



SECTION I. 

RESUME. 

We have exposed without indulgence, it may be with some 
severity, whatever is incomplete in the civilization of the 
United States ; unsatisfactory or hollow in the arts, sketchy 
or rude in their social position, factitious or chimerical in 
their literary pretensions. We have reproduced them as in 
an inventory without accepting them blindly, without taking 
the responsibility of their own partial criticism, nor yet the 
severe appreciation of English travellers, more attentive to the 
faults or absurdities of their transatlantic brethren than is 
becoming among relatives. While the English analyzed so 
passionately, the Americans worked on ; and what proves that 
they were endowed with life is that one by one the spots 
disappeared, the feebleness vanished and the bitter criticisms 
of English travellers became less applicable. 

What then was the element of strength, which lived at the 
bottom of the American Institution } 
11* 



250 IHE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

A moral and traditional element, which T have exhibited in 
the first chapter of this work, and of which I have now only 
to indicate the development. 



SECTION II. 

THE BEE FORMATION OF AN AMERICAN VILLAGE. 

Towards the borders of Arkansas or Illinois, in the profound 
and inexplored solitudes at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, 
you may see on some fine summer day, the arrival of a family 
whose entire furniture is contained in a wagon drawn by a 
small horse ; sometimes the husband and wife form the asso- 
ciation, sometimes one or two children serve to complete the 
republic. The father chooses the location. Here is a river, 
oaks, and turf ; but what next ? He has no tools, and to 
build his log house he needs time, workmen and money. He 
has no arms but his own and his wife's, maybe those of Jona- 
than and Samuel, his sons, not yet grown. The old settlers, 
.in the neighboring forest, who have long had their log houses, 
and who know the country, go to see the strangers, not 
merely to salute but to aid them. No preparation, no making 
ready, no tumult, no vain piirases. Time is precious. They 
say little, but content themselves with the most simple things ; 
they imitate the Bee ; they work together for the profit of the 
new-comers. This real and active fraternity has borne great 
fruit. The oak falls, is dressed and rolled to its place ; the 
house grows ; a roof only is wanted, and fifty ready arms soon 
construct it. When the harvest comes in, the wheat must be 
threshed ; again the comrades come, and a week's work is done 
in one day : what would have cost the solitary settler a month's 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 251 

toil is accomplished in the twinkling of an eye. The new 
settler returns what he has received; and when new ones 
come they receive the same services. You borrow your 
neighbor's horse, and he your plough, everybody helps every- 
body else, and misery reaches no one. 

These habitudes constitute the moral life, i. e. the essential 
and fundamental life of America. They begin, at first, in 
a community of five or six log houses. The idea of God and 
of the Bible are present to all these men, Saxon or Scottish, 
German or Dutch, coarse men if you will, and for the most 
part Calvinists. Next, they must have a church ; and, to 
build one of logs, a new Bee is formed. All the world, 
Quakers and Armenians, Methodists and Catholics, help. 
The clumsy wooden pulpit will be occupied by the nomadic 
preachers who may traverse the desert. It is not only a 
community, but a communion. The sympathetic law of 
Christ makes itself understood in that rudely-constructed 
edifice ; meetings become frequent and regular ; they pray 
together. Some souls have scruples ; the Calviuistic leven is 
there, severe and analytic, full of dreamy doubts, nor docile to 
the yoke of thought. Is it then thus that men should pray to 
God ? The dissidents, however, claim the right to their 
peculiar dogma, and a second church is built, forming a new 
community. The Quakers' chapel is burnt, and the Catho- 
lics lend them theirs ; the Presbyterians do the same for the 
Anabaptists. 

If we search for the true constitutive elements of the Bee^ 
which has just built an American village under our eyes, we 
will find three — the element Christian and Calvinist, adapted 
to association ; full of charity for one's neighbor and of sym- 
pathy for his sufierings ; — the Germanic element, patient, 
victorious, laborious, attached to the soil and to tradition ; — 
aud the element of enterprise and boldness, younger than the 



252 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AJIERICA 

other two of wliich it is born, and which it fecundates without 
destroying. Combine these three elements as you will, they 
will always preserve variety, liberty, and attachment to tradi- 
tion : leaving to Religion absolute independence ; to politics 
the liberty of federative groups ; and in private and public 
manners, encouraging equality of relations, individual inde- 
pendence and voluntary association. The United States, at 
present, are but a development of these three principles. 

Community is everywhere without injury to liberty. The 
work of the hee recommences in the phases of civil life ; they 
meet to settle the manner of repairing the bridge, placing the 
ferry-boat, settling the school-fund, laying out the road, clearing 
the forest. As to the tax, that is soon settled ; everybody knows 
that he needs the biidge and the ferry-boat, and so pays his part. 
Then new voluntary associations, or rather deliberative meetings 
to decide upon the position and support of a tribunal. At first 
all the heads of families take part, then the number of voters 
becomes too great, and a chamber of representatives is formed 
to take care of the little interests of the commonwealth. 
These interests multiply. The trappers steal the horses and 
cattle, the Indians fire the barns, and a militia is organized. 
Assurance against fire becomes indispensable. All this is 
done progressively, with order and by the same process — 
always the hee. There is no government, each being able to 
govern himself, none desiring the vain and mournful care of 
governing the others. 

So grows an American village. Nothing resembles it in 
France or in Europe. There, mutual aid is not thought of ; 
all wish to command, and never have they seen " the gather- 
ing of the bee." Read the Polyptique (flnninion, naive 
picture of the eighth century ; there are nothing but graduated 
slaves, whose misery is soothed by Christianity. It matters 
little whether the peasants group about the chateau or the 



AND OF 'JlIE UNITED STATES. 25 3 

abbey ; first tlic Roman, then the German, then the lawyer 
or perhaps the abbot, have governed the young village, and 
aided or impeded its progress ; but no service rendered by 
equal to equal ; ever benefit or oppression, gratitude or ven- 
geance. And now that eighteen centuries are gone, look at 
the moral condition of a French village ; the loveliest country 
in Europe lives in a state of universal hostility. All hatreds 
ferment Trith all interests ; the schoolmaster hates the cure, 
who excommunicates the schoolmaster ; the miller is jealous 
of the neighboring manufacturer, and he is full of envy towards 
the representative, the cultivator, the vigneron. Count the 
adverse elements, the furious dissonances made to howl and 
fret together by our civil wars ; near the Suzerain, to whom 
the Restoration has given back his estates, lives the assiduous 
reader of Voltaire, proprietor of some national property 
bought during the Revolution ; not far from him is the 
General of the Empire, who elbows the advocate of the over- 
thrown Restoration ; finally, some relics of the Revolutionary 
whirlpool, faithful to their creed of 1793, are neighbors of 
the young Communist, who hates the unity of Spartan 
democracy. These layers touch each other repulsively : 
Society full of hatred ! Concert of vengeances. 

The French or Italian hamlet cannot govern itself. It has 
neither the instinct nor the science of autonomy. Nursed in 
another cradle, formed of other elements, it wears the old 
stamp of authority, or, if you like, of servitude. Rival and 
jealous passions ferment there with the memories of ancient 
wrongs ; not that the souls are worse, but that the customs 
are bad. 

Without that moral predisposition which gives the faculty 
of self-government, republican institutions could not exist two 
years, even in the United States. It is the Germanic and 
Christian sentiment of active solidarity, or real coramunityj 



254 



THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 



of fraternity close and a little wild, which sustains and vivifies 
them ! The Bee^ a voluntary association of individuals and 
families, marches always on ; after establishing the tax, it in- 
stitutes the sub-treasury, which becomes the local bank, an 
easy transformation. This bank issues local notes, makes 
each man's money profitable, and lends to the laborer who 
wishes to buy a horse or a plough. Everybody being a 
banker, no one wishes to destroy the state. The water-course 
near moves the mill whither each brings his corn, or his 
planks to be sawn : then more mighty mills arise, attracting 
everybody's capital, the widow's, the orphan's, the journalist's ; 
who dare burn those mills, which belong to all ? Capital does 
not accumulate as in France ; the money, which they greatly 
love, passes through a thousand hands ; specie is n^ver idle, a 
great banker seldom exists. Confidence is the mainspring. 
Ehodc Island, for her 100,000 inhabitants, has 65 banks, of 
which the capital varies from $100,000 to $2,500,000, the 
total reaching $50,000,000. And the shares are by statistic 
report distributed thus : 



Women, 


shares 2,438 


Mechanics, 


673 


Farmers and Laborers, 


1,245 


Savings' Banks, 


1,013 


Teachers, 


630 


Private Estates, 


307 


Charitable Institutions, 


548 


Corporations, 


157 


Public Officers, 


438 


Sailors, 


434 


Merchants, . • 


2,038 


Retailers, 


191 


Lawyers, . • 


977 


Doctors, . • 


326 


Churchmen, . • 


220 



11,645 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 255 

Thus everybody owns something ; every man who worlds is a 
capitalist, buys one share, then a second, and ends by the 
purchase of a store or a vessel. The bank pays its own ex- 
penses, the community profit by the rest. 

It is surely convenient for the laboring man to have near 
him, the shop where money is sold, where farmer and me- 
chanic can be supplied according to their means and credit. 
The inhabitant of the smallest place need not send his savings 
to the great city for investment. In almost every town in 
America, tailors, shoemakers, widows, orphans, making up 
some hundred and fifty capitalists, are all owners of the local 
bank which lends at 6 per cent., and pays it back in dividend. 
The shareholder helps his trade with what he borrows, and 
augments his capital by the industry which this capital sup- 
ports. What member of the community so humble, so igno- 
rant as not to be interested in the preservation of a society 
which is but an aggregation of individual interests. 

The log-houses disappear. Cities are seen. The specula- 
tor and the capitalist, always eager, turn to their own advan- 
tage the situation which they did not create, and which they 
may injure or destroy, if the essential force of manners do not 
triumph over all else. You see men who have or who desire 
money, using this young society as a gaming table. They 
ruin or enrich themselves : their fortunes crumble or increase 
like mountains of sand that rise or disappear at the will of the 
desert-wind : the basis rests immutable. The Bee still lives 
and labors ; there still exists the same mainspring of moral 
and physical energy which borrows and lends with equal faci- 
lity, the same activity of mutual aid, the same Christian spirit 
of strife against evil ; of brotherhood in that strife, of equality 
in duties and expenses, of free will in expansion. One ex- 
pects nothing from the state : what is the state ? One 
does not dream of Utopia ; why should OQC ? No one curses 



256 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

a Past wbich possessed all the seeds of American self-govern- 
ment, that is, the greatn^oss of the United States. He is a 
true Enolishman, that American shipbuilder who agrees with 
the rail-road proprietors, with the engineer, the mechanic, the 
settler, without fancj^ing that he needs a government to pro- 
tect him, and in whose soul is a rooted belief that the best 
society is that where everybody agrees to command nobody. 

Take from America her spirit of Christian brotherhood, of 
antique Teutonism and of hardy enterprise, or any one of the 
three, and her prosperity will disappear. 

Large and fertile neighboring territories, some nominally 
republican, others subject to a distant metropolis, — Mexico or 
Canada, — one with institutions copied from the United States, 
the other under British dominion, but with French memories : 
these will arrive at nothing. The Spanish republics vegetate 
in convulsive toipor. The French Canadian farmer, full of 
heart, bravery, often of cleverness, sociable, charitable, inge- 
nious, has not been able to create a society nor even to sus- 
tain himself. "Nothing," says Lord Durham, "is more 
striking than the difference of situation, cultivation, and 
riches, between the two fractions of the same country, inhab- 
ited and cultivated by two different races. The Canadian 
territory towards the great lakes is perhaps the best in Amer- 
ica, yet it yields scarcely anything. The vast peninsula in 
Upper Canada between Lakes Huron and Erie, comprising 
the most fertile grain-land on the Continent is left to nature. 
Between Amherstburg and the sea, the selling value of the soil 
is infinitely greater in the English United States than in old 
French Canada. The difference in some parts is as 1000 to 
100. The acre sold for a dollar in Canada is worth five or 
six, two steps off in the United States. Opposed to the old 
French city of Montreal, where all is repose and silence, rises 
and grows the young Anglo- American city of Buffalo. Buf- 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 257 

falo IS of yesterday, Montreal dates from the 16tli century. 
Everywhere the same contrast ; here, forests cleared, fields cul- 
tivated, houses built, farms made the most of by the Anglo- 
Americans ; there, an infructuous solitude, where a few colo- 
nists vegetate in poverty, scattered wrecks of old French fami- 
lies, without the spirit of enterprise, without roads or markets, 
and separate from each other by considerable intervals." 
It is the same Christian and Teutonic genius of voluntary 
association, of sympathetic industry which, in Ireland, opposes 
the riches of the imported Scots to the poverty of the old 
Irish. 

Persuade a Norman, Picard, or Gascon peasant to deposite 
Lis weekly gains in a central bank ! Tell that vigneron who 
distrusts the smith, that smith who loves not the doctor, that 
doctor who detests the cure, to form an association — they will 
do nothing of the kind. All community of interest is impos- 
sible, since each treasures up what he can gain, and is on his 
guard against his neighbor. Suppose besides that the Uni- 
versity man is at war with the Churchman, the tax-gatherer 
with the instructor, and that the thundering voice of the 
journals reanimate incessantly these mutual hatreds ; beneath 
the ashes which covers and smothers them ; what harmony 
can come from such an accumulation of antagonisms. 

Listen to writers of statistics ; — they tell us that in France 
a population of 35,000,000 produce only 520,000,000 bushels 
of corn of all sorts in a year ; that they raise cattle in greatly 
inferior disproportion to the number of men ; that with the 
finest ports and the most admirable sail, France is relatively 
poor. The moral main-spring ruined ; the spirit of enterprise 
wanting, or working wrongly ; the tavern taking the place of 
the church ; present enjoyment absorbing the future ; the spirit 
of family attacked ; no local nor popular banks ; a profound 
demoralization seizing upon the manufacturing towns ; — all 



25S THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

this comes not from the Present, but from tlie Past ; and thus 
the loss of power, which for two centuries has not ceased to 
impoverish France, is sufficiently explained. What statistics 
could give a complete list of the capital wasted by our useless 
and unhappy wars, our false theories, our inactivity, our care- 
lessness. Between 1803 and IS 15 our strife with Europe 
cost 6,000 millions of francs and 1,000,000 men ; we paid the 
allies 1500 other millions, and lost in products destroyed by 
two invasions as many more. In twelve years 9000 millions 
of franca. Go back to 1800 or to 1789 you will find a sum 
almost as great exhausted by the wars of the Revolution, and 
the destruction of industry. Therefore in spite of the pro- 
gress of science and of light, the wound is very painful. 

*'I have often," says the engineer Cordier, "traversed 
twenty square leagues without finding a canal, a route, a manu- 
•factory, or even a domaine. The whole country seemed a 
desert, or a place of exile abandoned to the unfortunates whose 
interests and necessities are equally ill-understood, and whose 
distress increases constantly because of the high price of 
transport, and the low price of products." " The unfortunate 
condition of the French working classes," says the British 
Consul Newman^ his report to the British Commissioner of 
the poor l^s, " has no better proof, than the resolutions 
recently^ taken by the manufacturers and the Breton farmers, 
to employ none who would not leave in their hands a weekly 
sum for the support of their wives and children. They are 
generally quick, active people, who make good soldiers, but the 
moral culture is null ; nearly all the small farmers come back 
from the fair half-drunk, and the week's money is spent by 
Monday." 

"It is known," says another report, "that the abuse of 
paternal power has enfeebled the population of the department 
du Nord. A father uses his child to gain a few more cen- 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 259 

times. He sends him to school but leaves him there only 
until his feeble arms become of some use to his parents. And 
this child, worn out before he is grown up, curses, as you can 
imagine, a father who has shown him no pity." 

See then what the most active, ingenious, generous race of 
Europe has done with the fair land which Grod gave it. The 
race is not to be accused, but the Past. The tradition was 
erroneous. 

Despite the ameliorations of the last sixty years in material 
interests, it is plain that the old Celtic spirit is not yet van- 
quished, a spirit prompt in war, in art, yet mentally dis- 
orderly, incapable of self-government, and kindling the war 
which labor now wages against capital. 

In the United States, contrary traditions have produced 
contrary effects. On-going in its force, trusting itself, 
expecting nothing from one's equals, demanding nothing from 
government, succoring one's neighbor, and being succored by 
him ; these form the secret : these are the English habits, 
which, under an aristocratic form have made the prosperity of 
Great Britain and which America now carries out to their 
fullest extent. 

Hence comes universal hope, general industry^ ardent 
desire for the advancement of the race. Born of the 
Christian and Teutonic elements, these three forces abound in 
America: Charity, Good Sense, Activity. From the combi- 
nation of these three forces, not one can be spared without 
injury to the organic play of such a state as the Union ; love, 
intelligence, power. A proud and sympathetic tradition 
becomes self-government, resolves itself into the government 
of province by province, commune by commune, municipality 
by municipality, of each group by itself, of man by man. 

The true device of the United States is not " every man 
for himself," a motto of destruction, but " every man ly 



260 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

himself and for all ;" a motto of sympathy and creation. 
Nothing astonishes and scandalizes, I will not say an Ameri- 
can, but a peasant of Norway, Denmark or Scotland, so 
much as to hear that there is in the old Roman countries a 
unit Power, which acts for everj^body, supports the schools, 
pays the clergy, builds the bridges, sustains the theatres, 
sells tobacco and salt, erects hospitals, keeps whole armies of 
clerks to copy and endorse letters. The Teuton peasant is 
still more amazed when he learns that if the government 
were to withdraw its aid, everybody would revolt. 

He does not understand our two habitudes ; — the rage of 
wishing to be governed, and that of bitiug the hand that 
governs us. 



SECTION III. 

GROWTH OF THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC FIRST AND SECOND 

ERA OF AMERICAN CIVILIZATION IN THE UNITED STATES. 

That tradition of liberty in unity, order in independence, 
has no need of laws to exist in America. The manufacturer 
is free to employ or dismiss his workmen, the workman to 
accept or refuse the price ; the capitalist to do what he 
pleases with his money, the farmer and the merchant to capi- 
talize their gains. The State and the law never interfere ; 
moral law, the main-spring, is in the character of the people. 
There is no forced and theoretic association, but a sympathy 
of fact and habit, an Anglo-Saxon diihhing^ perp'^tual, inef- 
faceable as their manners, which governs the whole country, 
and without which self-government would be a chimera : they 
unite everywhere mutually to aid one another. It is so 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 261 

tliorouglily a memory of race, a Germanic tradition, dating 
from the epoch of the Rachinhour gs and of the Wittenagemot^ 
that the Irish, so abundant in the States, have difficulty in 
getting on: their habits of disorder and isolation often com- 
promise the destinies of the Union. Even among the half- 
savages, who, skin-clad and armed with an axe, go to clear the 
forest, this creative sentiment exists ; they too associate to 
create, never to destroy. They constantly reproduce the 
phenomenon of voluntary association, which we fiud on a 
larger and more active scale in civilized cities, for instance, 
the Puritan city, Boston. 

In 1844, says Mr. Mackay, the English ship Britannia, 
carrying despatches, and bound to quit the port on the first 
of February, was caught in ice seven feet thick at the docks 
and two feet thick at its extremity seven miles out to sea. 
The vessels lying in the clear water were loaded from carts 
driven from the shore. So soon as this blockade became 
known, a hee was gathered as rapidly as if in the woods of 
Ohio or Tennessee. This opulent and literary city arose to 
deliver the British mail-boat. The loorJdes^ commanded by 
engineers, traced a canal in the ice seven miles long by two 
hundred feet wide ; two furrows, seven inches deep, were drawn 
by a plough, ice blocks an hundred feet square, were sawn out 
and pushed toward the sea. This enormous and jlangerous 
operation was performed in two days ; but already new ice, 
two feet thick, had formed. The Bostonians came to see 
how the Britannia, now armed with an iron cuirass, would 
overcome this obstacle. She managed to break the ice, and 
advancing at the rate of seven miles an hour, issued tri- 
umphantly from the port, amid the hurrahs of twenty thou- 
sand Bostonians. Tents were erected on the shore, the elite 
were there in sleighs. A thick couch of snow covered the 
ice ; the sun rose, and joyous shouts filled the air, as they 



262 



THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 



pushed the boat with long poles, or followed it, in row boats, 
to the sea. To complete the good work, of which au 
engraving perpetuates the memory, Great Britain offered an 
indemnity, but the Bostonians gallantly refused. 

It is surely curious, and useful to examine how such 
manners were formed, what institutions they have produced, 
how they sustain each other, what vices have been introduced 
or have resulted from them ; what is the actual progress of a 
society so organized, and towards what future it marches. To 
find the actual source of these manners, we are to read 
neither Franklin nor Jefferson, personages of the second 
epoch of America, but the Narratives of the first Pilgrims, 
" Extracts of early documents relative to the old Puritans," 
and the ridiculous or fanatical books of the preachers, from 
1630 to 16S0, Increase Mather and his friends. The strange 
story of the Astorian expedition, by Alexander Ross, and the 
" History of the United States," by Hildreth, will show us in 
spite of what obstacles the Puritan genius was developed. 

Finally, passing by a crowd of English travellers who deal 
merely in useless satire, or in parody of the institutions and 
their ^lults, you should consult the work of Mr. Mackay, 
" The Western World," where the statistic anatomy of the 
country, at present, is examined with extreme care, and the 
work of the American, Mr. Carey, a book wearisome by its 
doctrinal tone, its apologetic excess, its panegyric, or rather 
its metaphysical apotheosis of the American Union. These 
works, which explain the true origin and actual character of 
this great people, are to be followed by some sixty volumes of 
contradictory narrative, Mrs. Houston, on the West, Revere 
and Wilkse on California, Lanman on ihe Alleghanies, Mac- 
Lean on the Rocky Mountains. By comparing these works, 
which differ in tendency, object and details, we can discover 
the Future of America, and the secret of her elevation, 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 263 

whicli is not her political institutions, as some imagine, but 
sympathy, reason, energy ; not by blind fury against the Past, 
but by the development of tradition ; not by the abolition of 
the Christian spirit, but by Christianity, not by laws but by 
manners ; not by theory but by facts, not by revolutions but 
by evolutions. No American State is revolutionary ; all asso- 
ciation is evolutive. Now all ^' evolution" is, in itself, 
organic, all revolution inorganic, one full of life, precedes 
Life ; the other, mortal, gives Death. Revolutions are crises 
which always kill nations by destroying their principles , 
evolutions are advancements, which save by developing the 
germs of a people. 

The bee-hive which covers America did not issue suddenly 
from the earth, nor is it the fruit of metaphysical combina- 
tions. The mighty seed was in the colony founded by Sir 
Walter Raleigh in 1585, and which lasted but a little while, 
because the Christian element was feeble in it. In 1606 
came an hundred English Calvinists. In 1619 the iBrst 
colonial assembly was convoked, and decided as sovereign 
upon the colonial interests. The Puritans of 1620 continued 
the work with more authority and austerity. Minding 
danger and toils but little, they planted their tents upon a 
rock bathed by the ocean, surrounded by sterile sands, under 
a vigorous sky; there, happy in free, mutual labor, they 
gather their first Bee^ enact laws, choose magistrates, act by 
representatives, recognize a nominal king, allow the metropolis 
to call itself their mistress, and in reality organize a republic 
They pay their taxes and ask nothing more. 

The first epoch of the colony is from 1620 to 1715, a 
period quite savage. In 1732, the age of Voltaire, there 
was not one portrait painter in America ; not a press until 
1640. They were busy in clearing the forests, with difficulty 
enough ; to excite themselves in the combat with Nature, 



264 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

they had chosen the most rebel soil. The first college was 
founded and endowed with £300, by the minister, John 
Harvard, in 1639, and is now the most celebrated in the 
United States. 

The first press, in the same locality, Cambridge, printed in 
1640 a detestable translation of the Psalms of David. 
There was not a single Anglo-American city until 1564. In 
all North America, there were for a long time but two cities, 
St. Augustine, founded by the Spaniards in Florida, and 
Santa Fe, which still exists. A century later, the entire 
population was only 134,600 souls, not to count the Indians 
who were never numerous, at greatest some 300,000. The 
title of "New World" was just. 

Between 1615 and 1715, the rejected of Europe, the 
refractory elements, the banished, the discontented, regicides, 
adventurers, Catholics driven away by Protestants, Protest- 
ants by Catholics, some dreamers,^ many poor folks who knew 
not what else to do, came to mingle with the Anglo-Saxon 
Puritans who fled from the religious tyranny and oppressive 
monopoly of James VI. and his son. The manly and organ- 
izing spirit of the Puritans governed all. The colonists 
formed groups, bees. Dif&culty was great, poverty extreme ; 
they honored toil, prayer, severity of life and probity. 

During this phage, barbarous if you like, but certainly heroic^ 
this people, enterprising, commercial, colonizing, sea-loving 
as their fathers were, changed neither tbeir spirit nor their 
race. All commerce is perilous, therefore they have courage; 
all cultivation is fatiguing, so they have perseverance ; all 
association is annoying, therefore they show devotion. The 
old Teutonic and Christian spirit grows root and branch, like 
the oak, which is its emblem. If London and Whitehall 
regulate the soil and make the laws, Tradition, in despite of 
-hose laws, organises a community, not a republic of old 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 205 

Greek heroes, or Roman patricians, but a Northman's Cnm- 
monivcaUh^ a word which does not indicate riches hokl in 
common, but the iceal^ the well-being of aU. It was ah-eady 
all republican ; in the charter-governed provinces which 
elected their own magisti-ates and deputies ; in the crown 
provinces which chose their own representatives, and in the 
provinces held, by royal grant, by individuals who strove in 
vain to annul or modify the results of election. One mind 
and one soul vivified these three political establishments. 
All the colonists wished to govern themselves and they did so. 

From 1643, in the days of Louis XIV., the colonies formed 
a league offensive and defensive ; each sent two commissioners 
to the Congress of the Confederation. In 1676 a thoroughly 
republican charter, accorded to Rhode Island, finished the 
work, so much in conformity with the old affinities of the race. 
The metropolis, obedient to the middle-age corporations, 
could not destroy the same principle in the colonies, the free 
spirit of corporation. 

Shaftesbury and Locke took part in the political destiny of 
the colonies. The laws meditated by Locke, dictated by his 
tolerant and rationally free mind, remained in force until 
1842, and the whole republican Constitution of this state, 
comes from this philosopher, the friend of William of Orange. 

I have said that they were poor. The grandfather and 
father of Franklin took pay in wampum for want of specie. 
The little gold and silver brought by the May-flower had soon 
found its way back to the metropolis in return for her products. 
New emigration brought a little more, but money was ^on 
wanting ; they were forced to trade with corn, flour, cattle, 
even with furniture and houses, if they were in debt. A 
special law ordered the value of objects of trade to be ap- 
praised by " three intelligent persons," one chosen by the 
debtor, one by the creditor, the third by the judge. They 
12 



266 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

paid with beaver skins and mnskct balls, wliicb latter were 
worth a farthing each, and were current to the amount of a 
shilling. The Dutch of Manhattan taught the Puritans a 
more commodious means, the use of the shell-work called 
wampum. Three black grains or six white ones made a 
penny ; these were made into strings worth from threepence to 
six shillings. 

So went on the arduous work of civilization, not by wealth 
but by resolute labor, by the bee^ by mutual aid, by individual 
respect, by the liberty of each province. Every township, 
centering in itself, free to exist as it could, faithful to its 
personal customs, was yet obedient to the great Christian laws. 
There was no unique and absorbing centre ; no theoretic 
pretension, no rhetoricians, no disciplinary unity. The idea 
of property was everywhere distinct, giving to each family the 
greatest possible happiness, to each village the greatest pos- 
sible wealth ; to each province the greatest possible influence 
and commerce. All these groups, balanced by their mutual 
strength, had a common and general elective motive power ; 
hope, life, activity. Nothing violent, ambitious, chimerical 
or hazardous ; there was only the simple and normal de- 
velopment of the Teutonic genius, of the Christian institu- 
tions of the Middle Ages, their essence, their variety, their 
strength and their 'freedom. 

Not only are the useful and fertilizing elements of this 
great epoch still found in America, but the fiercer Middle 
Age elements are neither wanting nor annulled ; they form a 
part integral, of the solid germ from which a new civilization 
must spring, and possess all the qualities requisite, resistance 
and endurance. 

It is not the absence but the excess of Christian sentiment 
which has founded America ; there it is perpetuated under 
the form of mitigated fraternity. The Puritan of 1620, 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 267 

a protestant inquisitor, who went to struggle against Nature, 
only to escape the religious tyranny of Europe, would make us 
quake to-day, estimable as he was. Armed, in his turn, with 
fire and sword to smite all heretics, wizards, and witches, this 
martyr of Catholic or Anglican persecution, became, as soon 
as he found himself free, a fearful persecutor. The first 
epoch of American civilization is full of his cruelties. The 
principal types are the famous Increase Mather, and his son 
Cotton, two figures colder than Calvin and bloodier than 
Knox. The first Colonists coarse, violent, fierce and austere, 
of implacable severity, pushed credulity and fanaticism to the 
extremity of barbarity. Honest they were, serious, sincere, 
manly; they could fight against savages, cold, hunger, distress, 
if need be, against the very Devil ; indeed, they had a pecu- 
liar taste for a combat with that personage. If they did not 
discover him on their way, they went in search of him, and 
frequently gave themselves the pleasure of burning a witch. 
Yet they did not destroy American Society, they founded 
it. Fanaticism is the exaggeration of Faith, but not its poison ; 
a formidable astringent, it proves the social vitality of which 
it is the excess and the abuse. 

The old municipal registers of some of the towns in IMassa- 
chusctts, between 1640 and 1680 have been reprinted. 
" Jane Edwards is to be imprisoned for having pressed 
Jonathan Williams' hand. — The little Johnson shall have 
thirty stripes and be put on bread and water, for sleeping in 
church. — Mary Merivale shall do public penance, bare-footed, 
for pronouncing the name of God without respect." — As for 
witch histories, they abound from the beginning and recall the 
history of Urbain Grandier and the possessed of Loudon. 
" Between 16SS and 1692" says a chronicler, " we had in 
Boston a fearful and singular example of the wiles of the 
demon. In a respectable family, four young children, the 



268 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

eldest a girl of thirteen, aud tlie youngest a boy of nine, were 
attacked with demoniacal convulsions, which presented all the 
symptoms given by the best writers upon the subject. These 
children complained of being bitten, pinched and tortured by 
invisible beings ; they barked like dogs and miaouled like cats. 
The frightened father hastened to send for Dr. Oaks, a 
renowned theologian, and a great physician of souls, who 
declared that the children were possessed. An old Irish 
woman, a servant in the house, was denounced as a witch by 
the eldest sister, who had quarrelled with her ; the other 
children confirmed the testimony of their sister. The four 
ministers of Boston, and the one of Charlestown, met in the 
house and made long prayers, by which the youngest boy found 
himself considecabty soothed. The others persisted and the 
Irish woman was imprisoned. Being asked if she was a 
sorceress, she replied " she flattered herself that she was." 
As she was very poor and of lowly estate, she fancied that her 
relations with the demon would procure her some credit. 
She was hanged. 

This occurred during the voyage of Increase Mather to 
London whither he had gone to ask aid for the colony ; ho 
had left behind him a worthy son. Cotton Mather, aged 
twenty-five, as ardent as his father in pursuit of the demon. 
He took an active part in the execution of the Irish woman, 
and then desiring to examine more closely the diabolical 
operations, he caused the eldest girl to be taken to his house, 
where he lodged her, watched all her actions, followed all her 
motions, and wrote a journal about her which still exists, 
printed, under the title of " Memorable Providences mani- 
fested on the subject of possession and sorcery." In a special 
document, joined to this work, the four ministers attest the 
truth of all therein contained, and Cotton adds a thundering 
preface, wherein he does not fail to uplift himself against those 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 269 

Sadducees who will not believe in the Devil, and are con- 
sequently Atheists. The book was reprinted in London, 
with a preface by the worthy Baxter. 

For fifty years, an epidemic of demoniac possessions vexed 
Massachusetts. Four years after the young girl, retired into 
private life, had ceased to be the object of popular curiosity ; 
the whole village of Salem was possessed. Curious scenes 
took place in the church. Kival women arose and accused 
each other of sorcery in the temple itself. Many innocents 
perished, and the affair was only put a stop to by tortures. 

At the moment that these fierce ideas began to be softened, 
when the Christianity of these men, quitting this exalted 
fanaticism, became a more humane and prudent, even a 
finessing charity, in 1715, Franklin was nine years old 
Activity was preserved, energy had not disappeared, the 
religious spirit existed in men's hearts, as powerful, and less 
sharp. Franklin and "Washington, apostles of toleration, 
gentleness, and pacific activity, began to rise and grow in the 
midst of this reactionary movement, submitted to a new 
impulse. Franklin represents the second epoch which now 
expires, and which was signalized by the American indepen- 
dence. 



SECTION IV. 

THIRD ERA OF NORTH AMERICA VESTIGES OF PURITAN 

FANATICISM MORMONS AND MILLERITES CATHOLICS IN 

THE VALLEY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 

A third era is commencing. Now that colonization, 
finished on the Atlantic sea-board, goes on triumphantly in 
the Valley of the Mississippi, and from the great northern 



270 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

lakes to Sierra Nevada, the new reaction manifests itself : it 
is an impulse towards enterprise, war, conquest. The old 
faith, in its rigor, has left few traces : activity has become 
extraordinarily energetic : charity and concord have trans-» 
formed themselves, little by little, into patriotism . the love 
of glory and of war break forth strongly. Still the Past lives 
in the Present, and the old Puritan germ is not dead. Nine 
tenths of the citizens of the United States are still Protest- 
ants : the Northern States preserve some Puritan sap ; those 
of the South lean towards tolerance, towards Presbyterianism 
or towards Catholicism, of which the activity concentrates 
itself in the fertile Valley of the Mississippi. All the 
North, especially where the Mathers lived, dislikes the 
pacific element of this modified protestantism which is so 
general in southern and western cities, which is protected and 
favored by men of instruction, the capitalists, the whigs, or, 
as they may be called, the moderates or conservateurs. The 
new element of wa*"like enterprise, peculiar to democrats, to 
country-folk, to workmen, to the active, vehement mass, 
always eager to change the Present, mingles easily and well 
with the old Puritan element. Hence, that strange enter- 
prise of the Mormons, who are trying to reconstitute, in the 
Rocky Mountains, the Biblical, patriarchal unity of power ; 
and hence the sect of Millerites, Millenium people, who in 
their turn took refuge in the White Mountains. 

The Millerite and Mormon follies are marks of the alli- 
ance of the popular genius, with the old Puritan leaven. 

The Prophet Miller announced the end of the world for 
October 23, 1844 ; but as the event did not correspond with 
the prediction, he put it off until October 23, 1847. The 
popular masses of the North were shaken, and the fanatic 
movement extended as far as Philadelphia. Farmers neglected 
their labor, and public ofl&cers were appointed to rescue their 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 271 

harvests. In signing their receipts, they would say, " I trust 
that this is the last time." Concord, a little village of New 
Hampshire, was entirely drawn into the movement. Between 
Plymouth and Boston several proprietors sold their estates, 
and gave the money for the construction of a tabernacle 
wherein were to be gathered all the faithful, clad in white for 
their ascension. The Bostoniaus made a good affair of it. ' 
In many shop-windows you read, " White robes of every tex- 
ture, size, and shape, for the ascension on the 23d." Some 
Methodist preachers and some journals encouraged this 
strange hallucination. Some New Yorkers passed the nights 
of the 23d and 24th awaiting the trumpet of the angel. A 
young girl, having received from her betrothed a precious 
necklace, desired to consecrate it to preparations for this 
ascension. Accordingly, she took it to a jeweller, to whom she 
revealed her motive. " Why," said he, ^' here are some silver 
spoons which I am now engraving for your minister ; so that 
you see he does not believe in his own predictions." 

In the most public part of Boston they built a huge 
shantee, capable of holding two or three thousand persons. 
The edifice was about to fall, and the magistrates interfered 
and required them to build it more strongly. The crazy 
troup, passed the night in it in prayer, robed in white, and 
singing, 

I'm all in white ; my soul is clear, 
I'm going up ; nought keeps me here 

The flower-decked room was lighted by seven-branched 
candlesticks, and hung with Hebrew texts. The night 
passed, the morning came, nobody " went up," and the 
society became bankrupt. The hall became a theatre, and 
Mr. Lyell was amused to hear there, Hecate singing in the 
play of Macbeth, 



272 TlIK FUTURE OF NOKTII AMERICA 

" Hark, I'm called ! My little spirit, see, 
Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me." 

Charlatanism, speculation, hyprocrisy mingle in these customs, 
and make out of them what they can. A preacher establishes 
himself in a village, kindles the minds, inflames the hearts, 
and makes the credulous contribute. Rigor is pure mockery 
in many pretended fanatics. " Madam, " said an innkeeper, 
gravely, to Mrs. Houston, " this is a religious house ; prayers 
take place regularly, but if you do not wish to assist at them, 
we will shut our eyes to it." 

Variety, liberty, tradition reign then in America in the re- 
ligious sphere, as well as in the political. The free division 
of the Protestant sects, themselves sub-divided into con- 
stantly sub-dividing sects perfectly realizes the prediction of 
Bossuet, The Methodists count 1,200,000 communicants 
and 7,009 ministers ; the Baptists a few less ; the Presby- 
terians 350,000 members and 3,000 ministers ; Congregation- 
alists 200,000 members and 1,800 ministers; Evangelical 
Lutherans, mostly Germans, 145,000 communicants and 
7,500 ministers ; the Episcopalians 86,000 communicants and 
13,000 ministers ; the Universalists 60,000 communicants and 
700 ministers. The Presbyterians, conservators of the severe 
tradition, despite their numerical inferiority, are the richest 
and most influential ; the Baptists and Methodists are dis- 
tinguished by an ardent zeal often excessive. 

The Catholic movement in this country merits attention. 
Repulsed at first by the general sentiment of the English 
Protestant Colonists, the Catholic emigrants who gave to 
their settlement Maryland, the name of Queen Mary Tudor, 
and to their capital that of Lord Baltimore, were on the 
defensive for a century ; nevertheless the very principle of 
Protestantism and Germanic independence protected them in 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 273 

their isolation. Now tbey count nine hundred priests and 
1,750,000 laymen. Not only do they nearly equal in num- 
bers the most flourishing Protestant sect, but in the large 
cities they have powerful congregations ; considerable rural 
districts are entirely Catholic, and the valley of the Missis- 
sippi, with its rapidly doubling population cannot help being 
theirs. Already are the Sisters of Charity at work in the 
wilderness ; nineteen twentieths of the valley are sown with 
chapels ; the cross hangs from the branches of the old trees, 
the mass is celebrated by the Missionaries amid those antique 
shades. At St. Louis and at New Orleans the best schools are 
Catholic ; and nothing is so visible as the perfect capability of 
conciliation of Catholic dogma with that personal independence 
and social energy which the regions of Southern Europe havo 
so irreparably, wrongly refused to favor. 

A witness of this usurpation of its dominion, the old Puritan 
spirit awakes in rcdvah^ which are religious fevers common 
among the Baptists, and excited by Nomadic preachers. 
Amid tears, sobs and convulsions four or five hundred' men 
are plunged into the waters of regeneration. Debauchees, 
prodigals, adulterers, seat themselves before the people upon 
the " anxious seat," and confess their crimes. This fury of 
moral regeneration seizes sometimes upon whole provinces. 
Sometimes calmer parties take part against the instigators of 
these revivals, and cite them before the Courts of justice as 
" troubling the peace," or as "" slanderers," if some rather 
vivid personality may have been uttered. " I saw one," says 
a traveller, " whom a band of musicians were playing out of 
town with the Rogue's March. A fight ensued, and when the 
parties came into Court and the Judge enquired why the 
accused had not quitted the place without noise, he replied, 
" ' I have my idea ; the devil has his.' 
" ' But you break the peace.' 



274 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

" ' Nehemiah refused to yield to the enemies of the 
Lord.' 

" ' But,' said the judge, ' you should have followed the 
example of St. Paul, who had himself let out of a window in 
a basket. It is a more peaceful and modern precedent.' 

*' The laugh that ensued gave the victory to the magis- 
trate." 

One sees that such manners do not result from political 
mechanism. 

Beneath universal suffrage and the appearanjse of a democ- 
racy, tradition exists. The old sap circulates in the veins of 
that society composed of millions of Anglo-Saxons worthy of 
their fathers, and who, hammer and axe in hand, continue 
their work and clear up an immense field for their future ; — 
their instruments are moral and value far more than iron or 
steel. 



SECTION V. 

THE POLITICAL SYSTEM BORN OF TRADITION AND CUSTOM- 
FEDERATIVE HARMONY DANGERS WHIGS AND DEMOCRATS 

FEDERALS AND ANTI-FEDERALS. 

It is a profound error to regard the American institutions 
as new, simple, or reducible to an abstract type. It is 
precisely the contrary. Diversity, inseparable from liberty, 
is their proper characteristic. They are old as the Europe 
of Charlemagne, varied as humanity, practical as Reality. 

The Mississippi Catholics and the Mormon Protestants, 
the Texan so vividly and wrathfully painted by Jonathan 
Sharp ; the Blue Nose of Maine, the butt of Sam Slick, the 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 275 

Alabainian, whose bony energy frightened Mr. Mackay, and 
forty other varieties of the American species crowded in that 
continent, having not only diverse manners and customs, but; 
ever-conflicting interests, need a legislation and a political 
formula of a complexity equal to their varieties. It is not by 
an ingenious labor, by a judicious arrangement of the political 
wheels that so many cogs play within one another, that so 
many little spheres describe their respective elipses without 
striking and breaking one another. Admit that all men are 
equal, and the war of interests becomes naturally legitimate, 
society would be but one carnage, if the customs of which 
we have spoken, if the traditions of the Protestant hive and 
its laborious bees did not prevent the universal destruction, 
inevitable result of the strife of so many opposing interests. 
Now thirty-one States move freely, each in its sphere, all 
enclosed by the common sphere, and if there be shocks and 
unfortunate gratings, still the development of the national 
prosperity goes on. 

How has this difficult end been attained .? Is it by the a 
priori system, the metaphysical unity, the philosophical 
method ? Have they divided the States by Domesday Book ? 
or made partial or general revolutions ^ or broken violently 
the old feudal system ? 

The Americans have effaced the word " King," and that is 
all. The electoral system is the same ; the States arc 
governed by their ancient laws. They have not passed a 
garden-roller after the various characters and customs. They 
have developed not strangled. 

As the corporations of the Middle Ages were governed by 
their own laws, which their neighbors had no power to change, 
so each State has its own constitution, suitable not only to the 
needs of the day, but elastic enough for future acquisition. 
There are then thirty-one local politics, thirty-one executives, 



2 7G THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

legislatures, judiciary powers. All this goes on, not without 
collision, but without effort. The Americans have not 
fancied that they could violate the Teutonic and Christian 
traditions of their Anglo-Saxon race, nor separate the idea 
of liberty from the idea of variety. They have not made 
their institutions as philosophical dreamers. But bringing to 
the task the experience of the colonist and the practical sim- 
plicity of the peasant, they have continued that which 
succeeded so well with their fathers ; what was worth nothing 
to them they rejected. 

They were advised to constitute a deliberative chamber, on 
the old Roman model, a unitary, and therefore, despotic 
way : two chambers they did create, both emanating from 
universal suffrage, the one representing the principle of 
federal union, the other consecrated more particularly to local 
interests. Each of these branches of legislative power 
respects the other, without checking it ; each has its proper 
limits, its determinate circumscription ; out of these limits, 
neither can act. They had not the strange idea of concen- 
trating power in an assembly, that most tyrannic of tyrants. 
Should either house surpass its powers, the Supreme Court 
breaks the decree or the law so made. This duality of the 
American chambers has been the great safe-guard of the 
country in all the dangers which it has run ; has prevented 
them from blundering legislation, that is from shaming the 
sucred character of the law, by violence or passion. What is 
remarkable is, that in destroying the title of King, and tho 
duration of hereditary power, they have compensated for the 
rcUtive feebleness of his position by the real power given to 
the President. His veto, that 'right of annulling against 
which such an outcry was raised at the commencement of the 
French Revolution, can repulse any sort of bill from both 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 277 

houses, unless two-thirds shall take part against the President 
— a thing almost impossible. 

Thus the executive power is joined to the legislative ; the 
Americans not having to dispose of the stable elements of the 
British Constitutional Monarchy, have replaced the want of 
antiquity by energy of action. Hardly a session passes with- 
out the use of his right by the President, yet no one is 
astonished : the Americans play fair : habituated by race to- 
the political dice, they are amazed neither at gaining nor 
losing, provided one plays openly and loyally. 

The Lower House is directly elected ; the Upper is chosen 
at second hand. The House of Representatives is renewed 
every two years, and now consists of about 230 members ; 
every ten years, after the census, this representation is 
enlarged. The senators are chosen by the State Legislature, 
each of which sends two, precisely as in 1642, when the Pro- 
vincial league was formed under the monarchy. It is easy to 
understand this political mechanism, rooted in the Past, and 
corresponding to the varieties of race, ideas, and customs 
which distinguished the first colonies. The Lower House 
represents the nation and the individuals who comprise it ; 
the Upper House, the individual States. 

Is the American Government then not one of abstract 
forms, but a living reality ? No : it is the legitimate and 
inevitable development of the Past; favorable to variety, 
liberty, and human expansion ; nor less favorable to the 
spirit of family, to Christian cohesion and brotherhood. Just 
as families assemble in isolated groups to form their bees in 
the frontier districts ; as the subdivided sects and fractions of 
sects rally under one common banner, so do these two 
elements of dispersion and concentration, originating in 
German, Christian tradition, constitute the political mechan- 
ism of the United States, and preserve the energetic vitality 



2*78 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

of the Union. Every member of the community supports 
his distinct opinions and interests, manufacturers, planters, 
Northern men, Southern men, abolitionists, workmen, farmers, 
capitalists ; each opposes his neighbor, and brings to the 
strife a crazy verbal zeal, little terrible in reality. Every 
township, every district, county, state, forms a sphere 
isolated and concentric, all united in the great sphere of the 
Union. In every one of these circles, they quarrel, but with 
little peril. There are few inflammatory discourses or tumult- 
uous assemblies, even on election days ; they vote in small 
groups, and in one day all is accomplished. In Vermont, 
where the principle of dispersion is pushed to the extreme, 
and where each township used to be ^represented, it so 
happened that in one township there were found but three 
electors — father, son, and servant, " who," says Mr. Mackay, 
" mjutually elected each other ; the father to represent the 
interests of property, the son the rights of the future, and 
the domestic the rights of labor." 

Thus political life is not an universal fever, and does not 
act by furious fits. Occupying little time and little space, it 
does not prevent the farmer from cultivating his lands, nor 
the woodcutter from using his axe ; a man is a member of the 
community precisely as he is father, son, or husband, without 
ceasing his ordinary occupations to be so. A thousand per- 
sonal and local considerations ; a thousand peculiar interests 
arm one man against the tariff, another for it ; one for slavery, 
another for the agricultural interest-question, sub-divided and 
localized usque ad infinitum^ these interest only fractions of the 
community. A man is a politician in his district, who is never 
in his county, and who will never see "Washington ; and, 
finally, the moment that the central legislature takes up an 
tigitating question, the movement ceases in the provinces, 
and no matter Low violently the blood may boil at the heart. 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 279 

the pulsations growing feeble as they reach the extremities 
lose all power to disturb the regular and normal life. 

Such is the federative harmony of this grand whole which 
you would strive in vain to bring to imperial or monarchical 
unity. Having as political elements only family groups 
scattered over an immense continent, the Americans proceed 
by the powerful self-concentration of each group, a system 
which the Union has well substituted for a centralization 
which would destroy it. I imagine a purely central move- 
ment in a society of so many million souls habituated to variety 
of active and free personal exercise of their will, would open 
a gulf that would swallow up all. 

Social life, monarchical or republican, is only a varied har- 
mony which concentrates on a certain number of points, 
its normal and regular forces, and balances them by one 
another. 

Excessive dispersion or excessive concentration would 
destroy the social body. Some Americans fear one of 
these, others are alarmed for the other. Hence their great 
fundamental division into whig and democrat. The demo- 
crats, (which word is not to be taken in its European sense), 
oppose all centralization ; go for dispersion ; want the annexa- 
tion of other countries, Canada, Mexico ; and will never rest 
until all North America be one great hive, with its separate 
cells. 

" Instead of calling themselves democrats," says Channing, 
" a word which has no meaning in modern language, they 
should be named disseminators.'*'' They preach the division 
of the Union into small groups, into concentric spheres, which 
shall effectually absorb all the surrounding force to give it 
sail again energetically. They represent mobility, activity, 
change ; they willingly oppose capital and its holders, especially 
manufacturing capital. Men of action, they further war, and 



280 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

are not particular about ideal or theoretic equity. Once in 
motion, they cannot be arrested even by a certain amount of 
injustice. It is they who show least courtesy to foreign 
nations," and I think," says Mackay, " that they would not 
hesitate to violate the constitution." This party is the symbol 
of extreme will and of ardent life. The invasions of Texas 
and Mexico, political crimes, were earnestly and unanimously 
supported by this party. 

What makes its strength, is the Puritan clement, which in 
many circumstances it possesses, and that need of popular 
aggrandisement, of warlike conquest, and of hardy passion 
which characterises the third epoch of America, and which is 
now. To consolidate the Central Government, and to oppose 
dispersion, is Whig politics. Such are nearly all moneyed 
men, manufacturers, capitalists, large proprietors ; it is they 
who instinctively supported the National Bank, attacked by 
President Jackson ; it is they who fight for the interests of 
capital in opposition t«j those of labor, especially of agricul- 
tural labor. Twenty other questions — slavery, manufactures, 
railroads, come into these opposed politics. In subsidiary 
questions, democrats and whigs mingle or become individually 
independent. Some Pennsylvania democrats join the whigs 
in the commercial question, while some of the Western whigs 
lean to the opinion of their adversaries on that topic. 

At the extremity of the whig party are found those who 
defend capital at all hazards, the gentlemen ; at the extremity 
of the democratic party, the nullifiers, who wish to give to 
each State the power of nullifying an act of Congress ; there 
are also separatists who hold to a right to quit the Union 
when they please. These last tend toward the total destruc- 
tion of the Union. The whigs call their adversaries loco-foco, 
from an accident which happened in one of their meetings ; 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 281 

in revenge, the democrats call them federalists, an injurious 
title, which they refuse to accept. 

What proves the complexity of American institutions and 
the play of parties is, that the nullifiers and separatists are 
checked not by any political force, but by interest. They are 
not sentimental or theoretic democrats, but cotton planters 
impoverished, or menaced by the protection of Northern 
manufactures. South Carolina, centre of this party, which 
was lately headed by Mr. Calhoun, an Irishman by race, of 
extraordinary energy and will and great mental power, has 
given great trouble to the rest ; the Charleston militia were 
ready to resist Congress, musket in hand, when the affair was 
settled by General Jackson. Then a few words pronounced 
in the House of Representatives made the Union tremble. 
An orator, after long inflammatory debates, spoke of dissolving 
the Union, a measure of which a vague presentiment may 
have been felt, but the actual presence of which struck the 
Assembly with a solemn terror. Pale, with lips trembling 
and crisped at his own words, stood the orator. All were 
still. Perhaps the divorce of loving and impassioned hearts 
was about to be pronounced — the suicide of America ! 



The Americans know well that the element of variety and 
liberty will never grow feeble among them : but, above al 1 
they cherish the element of association ; what indeed would 
become of that great body without it ? without that element 
of true Christian fraternity ? 



282 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 



SECTION yi. 

MECHANISM AND STRATEGICS OF PARTIES. 

You see how delicate and of necessity how fragile is this 
federative mechanism, where the two elements of variety and 
unity keep each other constantly in check. 

You must maintain in these thirty-one groups, so distinct 
and often divided by interest, the purely moral power of 
cohesion ; arms will be useless. Some years ago the Legis- 
lature of Pennsylvania was assailed by a troop of rioters 
who put the members to flight, not without danger to life ; a 
part of the population of Philadelphia were in accord with 
them, and the Harrisburg militia half in their interests. 
Until now the national sentiment favored and cherished by 
Congress has prevailed ; the lower house represents the 
Union, the Senators the individual States, while equally acting 
in their collective capacity. Thus a basis of fundamental 
unity reunites all diversities, and will continue so to do until 
interests too violently hostile, definitively breaking the chain, 
shall establish separate republics — a thing not impossible at 
some distant date. 

We have shown to what past origin this wise and complex 
equilibrium belongs. The same strategics long ago used by 
the Mother Country are still employed by the Americans ; if 
a question interest the entire country each party struggles to 
get first possession of it. The democrats are generally the 
more active : in getting the question of Oregon and Texas 
they surpassed their enemies. The old corruptions of 
English politics have not been blown away by these federal 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 283 

republican institutions. In 1840, Greneral Harrison was 
made President by rather unorthodox means. What they 
called the " Log Cabin Agitation" consisted of excellent 
dinners and breakfasts, cider, beer and ham, seasoned with 
political soDgs and served in log-cabins. The electoral corps 
in the country, is somewhat more independent, but at the 
same time more credulous. The Irish, who crowd from 
Belfast and Tipperary, to become American citizens, being 
very abundant in market, cost but little. Yotes are often 
bought, and there are slang terms appropriated to this politi- 
cal jockeyism — pipe-laying^ for example. The elector and 
the corrupter sit down together in a tavern, the former 
smoking a pipe. The other offers for it six, ten, twenty 
dollars. As long as it rests between the voter's lips, he is 
virtuous ; when he lays it down, he is sold. 

These singular habits,, inevitable corruptions, abuses, vices, 
caprices, wills isolated, ever wakeful, ever ready to resist the 
yoke, give much trouble to the heads of parties ; some 
fraction constantly strives to detach itself, some member 
of the army tries to go alone. They submit only at the 
last extremity and on the most vital questions. Then all 
these boiling waves enter one bed, and roll onward with irre- 
sistible force. Wo to him who would stem it. Independence 
ceases, discipline begins, and with it, tyranny. In all sub- 
sidiary questions be free, do as you please, lampoon your 
chief, attack the President, no one will hinder you : but one 
that the party is in full march, fall into your rank, sustain 
the standard, and fight. Even then, you may be some- 
what undisciplined and eccentric, but you must not desert. 

The Teutonic nations understand thoroughly well this 
mixture of liberty and discipline — old parliamentary tactics 
of Great Britain it is — a singular combination of disper- 



284 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

sion and cohesion utterly incompreliensible by tlie Roman 
people. 

The chief of a party does not lead, but is led ; they push him, 
and he is forced to march. The least sign of want of loyalty 
brands him ineffaceably, and a thousand indignant plumes and 
furious voices awake against him. His political life is 
destroyed. If, on the other hand, he be faithful to his party, 
so will the party be to him. " May he be hanged who would 
not stay by his President," said a fierce democrat to a recent 
traveller. 

" But you make your President greater than Louis XI V^." 

"Well, the President is ourselves." 

" Then you have all his faults, eh ? Even the Mexican 
war ?" 

" Why, we demanded the Mexican war ; it is glory and 
power." 

" Nevertheless it was an arbitrary and reprehensible 
thing." 

" What of that ; no party voice dared speak against a 
measure which pleased the people and soothed its love of 
aggrandisement. If any one had spoken against it, he would 
soon have felt the popular choler." 

" What did Webster and Calhoun think of it ?" 

" They took very good care not to tell their thoughts. 
They are surrounded by rivals ready to seise upon their 
lightest words and to destroy their influence by making them 
unpopular." 

This is the bad side of these English traditions. Each 
State exercises so much influence upon its citizens, that in a 
country of unlimited liberty originality is difficult. One or 
two rebel spirits like Fennimore Cooper have tried to differ 
in opinion from the mass, but they were put under the ban. 



AND OF THE U"NriTED STATER, 285 

Hence the subjugated individualities are intellectually effaced, 
an anti-literary position, detestable for the arts and the exercise 
of thought, but excellent for the great combat with nature : 
hence, too, the difficulty found by superior minds in attaining 
the highest position. The crowd of little minds, and of 
envious people, often agrees to elect mediocre people, and 
from this come presidents by comp'omise. Among these are 
mentioned the democratic Mr. Polk, and the whig. General 
Harrison. There are other motives for nominating the insig- 
nificant. Many a man while remaining faithful in important 
matters to his party, gives it in lesser points which interest 
perhaps his own State or province. He wounds not his 
party, but some section or fragment of it. He displeases so 
and so, and if he have much talent or activity he displeases 
everybody. Thus each party seems to prefer a candidate for 
the presidency, not the most clever man, but him who 
possesses most negative qualities. These are disagreeable 
to no one, abolitionist, slaveholder, nullifier, federalist ; but 
remain offenceless and uncommitted amid the jarring opinions 
of East, West, North, and South. 

In a continent where free variety is so powerful, a Capital, 
in the European sense of- the word, is as impossible as a king, 
The political metropolis, Washington, a desert half the year, 
has no importance as a city. New York, Philadelphia, 
Baltimore, Charleston, Cincinnati and St. Louis, are strangely 
placed near the borders of their respective states, and the 
legislature meets in none of them. Of all the large cities of 
America Boston is the only one which is a political centre. 
The very character and tradition of each city has been pre- 
served intact : the quiet gravity, modest dress, and moderate 
gayety of the Philadelphians, a certain degree of calm elegance, 
which sometimes approaches artificial simplicity, recall Frank- 
lin and his friends, and contrast with the headlong turbulence, 



'280 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

out door life, balls, amusements, constant reunions, and the 
dress often exaggerated of New York. " Who is that person- 
age with the yellow waistcoat, and the unequalled frill ?" 
asked a lady traveller. " It is a Connecticut farmer." " What ! 
from the land of steady hahitsV " Yes, but he has been in 
New York." 

The physiognomy of Boston is no less singular — it is not 
astonishing that this city should play a part almost as aris- 
tocratic in the commercial life of the country. It is more 
English than London. To believe a Bostonian, you would 
suppose that English was spoken only in that city. There 
are still maintained customs old before the revolution ; they 
chant the nasal hymns of Cromwell's Puritans and sit at table 
long after dinner. " I have seen in the streets of Boston," 
says a recent traveller, " the true Covenanting Calvinist and 
the English gentleman of Addison or Steele. Do not allow 
yourself to make a remark unfavorable to the country. John 
Bull become American is more sensitive thaii ever. 

The Bostonian has reason to be proud of his city. Culture 
of the intellect, severity of manners, probity and economy are 
honored there, and few cities of the Union possess so many 
distinguished men. 

It is to the puritan city that the honor belongs of having 
introduced into the manufacturing life, a regularity of custom 
and the purity of family manners ; of having conciliated the 
most active industry with respect for liberty and the rights of 
humanity, in a word of having moralized capital. It is not 
by theory but by practice that the Bostonians have arrived 
here, following the path of Christian tradition. They have 
not ceased to honor capital profoundly ; but they have offered 
a perspective and recompense to the laborer whom they 
employ, the rights of property and the culture of lands pur- 
chased by his economics. Land is so plenty in the United 



AND OF TTIE UNITED STATES. 287 

States that it is no very difficult thing. The field is moral : 
capital is less so. The field is rclig-ious, it attaches one to 
the soil, and elevates man. The trickeries of which one 
complains in America come from free capital, from the bold 
speculator ; but as the moral base of the cultivated field is 
gigantic, it balances or rather bears down the frauds and 
adventurousness of capital, which at least, it moralizes. 



SECTION VII 

THE LOWELL FACTORY GIRLS BOSTON THE BLACKS 

PRIDE OF RACE. 

One knows what manufacturing life is in France, and how 
the females so engaged exist, how many victims are thrown 
to prostitution, and what strange and abominable trades are 
invented by the crowding of men in the great cities. Ono 
knows what manner, of education the children of the people 
receive in the streets and places, and how a young girl's intel- 
lect is developed in the same sphere. Laws, governments, 
ministers, administrators whom they are incessantly accusing 
can do nothing against the easy seduction, the vile reading, 
the misery which presses, the example which corrupts, tho 
indifi'erence which vitiates, the jealousy which gnaws, the 
desired enjoyments and the iniquity that aggravates the evil. 

To cure these wounds there is nothing but the Christian 
principle which Calvinism has pushed to severity and which 
consecrates the labor of all, by basing it upon man's feebleness 
and his natural imperfection. This is not the moral basis 
which French chivalry has left to the workman and woman 
of France. The Child of the people, quick generous, clever 



288 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

and easily amused, of whom so mournfully ga,y a portrait bas 
been sketched by Mr. Robert Guyard, is neither less indus- 
trious, nor less endowed that her American sister at Lowell ; 
but she is otherwise placed. " She never drops the needle 
until three o'clock on Sunday ; mass or other religious ofl&ce 
do not exist for her : she prepares her little dinner and thinks 
of the ball as the negro forgets his cous cousou for the dance ; 
finally she is happy, she goes to the ball, which is no great 
crime. A storm arises, the fair white frock is ruined, the 
week's labor is ruined. So she says, " one is forever buying 
yet never has anything." But on Monday next, the white frock 
is refreshed, and brilliant and ready for the dance." To this 
poor girl, when Catholicism does not guide her inexperienced 
youth, who has no asylum in the convent, for whom old 
family feeling has no protection, whose sanctuary is the ball- 
room, let us oppose the Lowell factory-girl, daughter of some 
farmer or workman, and employed by Bostonian capital 
Employing her strength and capacity, the manufacturer moral- 
izes and enriches her, a great phenomenon worth some study. 
The first curious fact is that a population of 30,000 now 
replace that of 200 which Lowell possessed in 1820. This 
creation of yesterday situated at the junction of the Merrimack 
and Concord rivers, is the second city in Massachusetts and 
perhaps the twelfth in importance of the Union. In 1816 
there were but a few cabins. Now the spinsters of Lowell 
turn some two hundred thousand spindles ; nearly all the 
important mills belong to corporations, eleven in number a 
little time ago. The principal one, called the Merrimack 
Company, owns the great canal which conducts the water 
power to the mills. Not only does it own the canal and the 
mills but all the land below the falls. Queen of the industry 
there, this company is the mistress or lessor of all the others. 
In 1844 these companies made 100,000,000 yards of printed 



AXD OF THE UNITED STATES. 289 

cotton, iljed 15,000,000 yards of the same stuff, and used an 
eighth part of the cotton pi-oduced in America, 

As you approach Lowell, you find neither smoke nor putrid 
exhalations, nor crooked streets : no insalubrity : a pure 
nature furnishes a healthy atmosphere, plenty of water, and 
the anthracite coal which is used there, does not produce such 
masses of black vapor as hangover Manchester and Sheffield. 
All is tranquil or even gay. The freshness of the faces, the 
smiles of the women, the regular animation of the town and 
the extreme cleanliness of the streets seduce you. If you 
enter the establishments you find contentment upon all faces. 
Schools are numerous : the poorest can send their children to 
the primary schools, of which there are thirty ; while eight 
upper seminaries furnish the more wealthy with a more com- 
plete education. The workmen who love knowledge have 
founded what they call a " laboring man's hall," where they 
are taught reading, writing, and modern languages. A 
population of 30,000 send to school 6000 children. 

The life of the Lowell women is still more remarkable. As 
an American never employs infant labor, the factory girl is 
not taken until she is fifteen years old. She gains nearly $2 
a week or more and her board. She is paid monthly. As 
she has little to pay for lodging or dress, she puts her savings 
into the bank, lets it grow to a thousand dollars or so, marries 
some one going westward, helps her husband to conduct some 
new prairie-farm and dies at an advanced age, after bringing 
up ten or eleven children. There is nothing like the European 
chance-life ; the sentiment of religion and of family is pre- 
served. There is some little pedantry joined to all this, as in 
Geneva and Glasgow. These moral factory girls are wrong 
in becoming Hues. Mrs. Trolloppe calls them the " Fre- 
cieuses ridicules of Industry." 

The Bostonians are proud of Lowell, founded as it was by 
13 



290 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

their capital, and which agrees well with their Puritanism and 
grave regularity. As basis of the prosperity of the model 
manufactories, we find the great matter of which we have 
already spoken, the respective liberty and mutual dependence 
of the States. Lowell grew by the suffering of South Caro- 
lina. The enormous and almost prohibitory tariff of 1828 
assuring, to capital placed in a certain way, much greater 
profits than to any other investment, produced the grand in- 
stitutions which we have just described ; manufacturing pop- 
ulation sprang from the soil and the manufacturing capitalist 
soon grew rich : the corporations of Lowell increased rapidly : 
gigantic fortunes were made ; among others, that of Mr. 
Appleton, a person much esteemed in that country, some 
noise was made about it yet it was productive of glory and 
benefit to America. The slave states reproached the north 
with using the high tariff for their own profits at the expense 
of the consumers ; and were in turn accused of maintaining 
slavery, of breaking the first laws of humanity, and of com- 
promising in the eyes of the world, the federal integrity, the 
moral unity and the honor of the land. 

And here presents itself the problem of slavery. Legally 
the question is small. The constitution has recognised tha 
right of self-government in each State, makes the question of 
slavery a question of local administration, and Congress has 
no power to issue a decree of emancipation. To this the 
abolitionists reply that Washington is situated in a slave 
State ; that the rules of Congress permit and enjoin it to 
determine upon measures essential to its repose and dignity, 
and that in maintaining slavery it destroys equilibrium and 
wounds justice. In this thorny and narrow enclosure rest, 
without power to get out, parliamentary discussion and 
trickery ; outside of the circle, you find the true causes of 
the difficulty. 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 291 

They, like all that belongs to the United States, are rooted 
in tradition, respect for State rights and above all in the spirit 
of race. 

Not only do the blacks serve as instruments necessary to 
the grand conquests of the Americans, but in certain localities 
it would be difficult or impossible to replace them : the pride 
of blood pushed to the extreme in the South, prevents their 
being considered as brethren, almost as men. The negro is 
not of the race, not the fellow, not like the son of Japhet, and 
nothing can elevate him to such rank. To conciliate this 
anomaly with their principles, the Puritans of the North claim 
the right of separating themselves from the blacks, as the 
Mormons separate from the Anabaptists or the Catholics., 
Therefore the Africans are left in possession of their own 
churches, taverns, waggons, and balls. Once emparked, the 
blacks remain so ; and even when the traces of blood become 
faint, the white man will not yet acknowledge the equality of 
the mulatto or the quadroon. There is no example of mar- 
riage between a white and a Creole ; their union is illegal in 
the slave States. But if one do form such a marriage, he is 
not considered sufficiently punished by the public contempt, 
but is deprived of his rights as citizen. Before the marriage 
can be concluded he must swear that he has negro blood in 
his veins, that is that he has no civil rights. Mrs. Houston 
cites the example of a young man, " who injected some negro 
blood in to his arm, in order to swear, and so obtain the hand 
of a wealthy quadroon." 

The trace of African blood, the sign and color of the nails 
never disappear. The Emperor of Hayti would not be 
received in a tenth-rate hotel in the States. So the black 
prince, Boyer, found it through the United States even at 
the Astor House ; nor was either box or parterre of the 
th?atre open to him. 



292 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

The more one goes southward, the more this Teutonic 
leaven, this pride of white blood, which the northern Puritans 
have somewhat softened, is visible. The immense estates, 
the aristocratic life, the elegant tastes of Maryland, Virginia, 
Georgia, Florida, the habit of having slaves, who spare the 
master all personal exertion^ the fear of seeing all wealth and 
power concentrated in the north, of which the superiority is 
already threatening ; the unruled proceedings and fervor of 
the abolitionists, the impossibility of giving to the planters an 
equivalent for their slaves, the insalubrity of certain provinces 
for the white man, all concur to maintain slavery in the 
United States. Even in the north, vivid scruples, and a 
profound repulsion, prevent the adoption of any decided 
measures in favor of Emancipation. 

They fear to dissolve the Union, to irritate the south, and 
to detach it forever. They do not wish to cheek that 
progress which has not yet made the tenth part of its advance, 
and for which the African lends his arms and bis blood. 
Democrats and Whigs agree to push on Agriculture, supplant 
their English cousins in all markets, and conquer natural 
obstacles by enormous works, that sometimes render a State 
bankrupt : they agree to tap the AYest, by canals, which 
pierce the Continent, unite the Alleghanies to the Atlantic, 
and level the high lands that separated them ; to continue the 
already numerous lines of railroad, and to precipitate the 
movement of material civilization. What odds, then, whether 
there be slaves or not. 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 293 



SECTION VIIJ. 

ACTIVITY OF THE COUNTRY CONQUEST OE SOIL RAPIDITY 

OF COMMUNICATION. 

You know that the device of the Americans is, Go ahead ; 
Moral justice does not always arrest them ; impossibility docs 
not frighten them ; ''Het us try^"^^ they say. They do try, 
and once in twenty times, they succeed. As soon as the 
object is recognized as important, the American goes at it 
with a surprising vigor and zeal. They are talking, now, of a 
railroad from the great Lakes to the Pacific, a gigantic and 
yet practicable scheme, which would make of America the 
great high road between Europe and Asia, and would turn to 
profit thousands of now barren leagues. That is enough to 
command the serious attention of American legislators, and 
the project will probably be carried out. 

In such a country the electric telegraph is of course 
popular ; according to an almanac for 1848, there were, in 
1847, 2311 miles of electric wire in use, 2586 in construc- 
tion, 3815 projected; in all, 8712. Now, a station at Cape 
Ann communicates European news to Washington before the 
vessel has reached Boston. A pulsation of five hundred 
miles of wire, tells the Congressman what is going on in 
Paris or London. " Being one day at Washington," says a 
traveller, "I went idly into an office of the Telegraph, and 
asked about the weather at Boston, 500 miles distant ; in 
three minutes I learned that the weather was fine, but the 
heat great, and that a storm was gathering in the north- 



294 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

west." The cpposition of newspapers gives much employ- 
ment to the electric telegraph. An editor places two boys, 
one on foot, the other on horseback, on the. bank, to be 
approached by a news-bringing boat. A third agent on 
board, encloses the written news in a bit of hollow wood, 
flings it to the foot boy, who picks it up and hands it to the 
cavalier, and he, in turn, departs full gallop for the telegraph 
office. But a competitor ties his message to an arrow which 
is shot further, picked up quicker and gains the race. To 
watch this space-devouring eagerness which possesses the 
Americans, one can foresee the day when European news will 
pass, in the twinkling of an eye, from New York to San 
Francisco, and those of Asia be sent back. The extremities 
of the world will touch, and Rome will converse with Benares 
across the United States. Hence the immense number of 
American advertisements. The London Times seldom has 
more than eight hundred ; you find twelve, fourteen hundred, 
in an American paper. They wish to push conquest in 
every direction, to experiment, to try every chance. At the 
age of fifteen, the man learns that he is to be the architect of 
his own fortune. The ties of family are so elastic, and virility 
begins so early, that it is a hai;d matter to tell where youth 
ends or minority ceases. They talk politics while still in long 
clothes ; the lisping infant speculates. Vague dreams of 
ambition float through the mind ; they are fascinated by the 
name of Gerard who began without a cent and ended with 
millions. The babes are politicians or intriguing factionaries. 
Each hopes to get rich, to make one leap from deepest 
poverty to largest opulence. The national morality suffers 
from this ; activity and energy are developed at the expense 
of the calmer virtues. The soil is cleared, the forests fall, 
the climate changes, ports are dug, progress is accomplished, 
but all this does not make amiable men. Impatience to 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 295 

acquire, and love of lucre, prevent the culture of art, and 
that happy disposition which is content to give and receive 
enjoyment. Nothing but money and the enterprize which 
wins it are respected. Often the father is considered by the 
son merely as a once useful object, to be put into a corner 
like a bit of old furniture. By this destruction of domestic 
sympathies, the race is spread in every direction, digging 
canals, raising dikes, draining marshes, making new families, 
who will be scattered in their turn. The American loves to 
go as far away as possible ; sometimes neglecting fertile lands, 
because too near his birth place. 

This go-aheadisvi is indispensable where everything is done 
against nature. But one out of three thousand parts of the 
territory is cultivated and an original voyager has given an 
idea of the proportion by saying that the cultivated parts 
are to the uncultivated, as the seams are to the stuff of a coat. 
(Such a situation requires all the force of youth ; and this 
youthfulness of American character exhibits itself in a 
thousand different ways. In extreme vivacity, in a sus- 
ceptibility often exaggerated, a thirst for new sensations, and 
sometimes a light and frivolous humor. 

Therefore America abounds in adventurers from every 
country, among whom the quaintest go the South, the boldest 
to the North. 



296 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 



SECTION IX. 

SCE^•ES OF VIOLENCE AND MURDER AUNT BECK AND HEP. 

SONS THE ASTORIAN COLONY THE YANKEES. 

The most unheard of things take place in the forests of the 
Eocky Mountains and the uncivilized woild of Texas, 
Oregon, and California. A new impetuous life goes on by 
the gigantic stream?, the immense spaces of the AVest. ^J'he 
more one advances towards the Pacific, the more one 
encounters the phenomena, the efforts, the painful prodigies 
of a colossal birth. There is something frightful in the reio-n 
of brute force in the midst of that fresh nature. The gro- 
tesque too mingles with it, and the frightful is often gro- 
tesque. 

" There is a very gay-looking woman j" said a traveller 
to a Mormon, pointing out the mistress of an inn tear 
Mobile. 

" Yes," replied he, " she is one of our saints and sanctity 
always produces gaiety. She has not been one of us long. She 
came from afar, and when she goes out I will tell you tlie 
story of this she Macbeth. If you like horrors, the story of 
Aunt Beck will satisfy you." And when the woman had 
left the room the Mormon began his story. 

" You can only find such people here. She is of Irish and 
of Scottish extraction, with the sublety of the former and the 
obstinate violence of the latter. She came here with her 
husband, one of our first colonists, and with six sons, five of 
whom were strapping fellows of six feet, and the other a 
blond-haired boy like a woman. 



AND OF THE UNITRD STATES. 297 

" The strength of the five was a gloiy to the father ; they 
formed for him an army of brigands who spread terror through 
the country, and all went well until the preference of the 
mother for her last and delicate child gave offence to the 
father, who merely despised the graceful boy. Then followed 
the jealousy of the five. As he grew up, he rendered this 
hatred more fierce by refusing to accompany them on their 
excursions and by openly exhibiting his dislike to their man- 
ner of life. At sixteen he had never yet joined them and the 
mother began to find it difficult to protect him. One day 
the father handed him a gun and ordered him to attend bim 
with his brothers ; and on his firm refusal flew into a violent 
rage. 

" ' Won't you," he cried, " then I will tic you to that post 
and flog you till you yield.' 
/' ' Do so,' said the boy. 

" The father then sprang upon hini and with one blow upon 
the temple laid him dead at his feet. Then the mother 
changed to a tigress. With a bowie knife in her hand she flew 
at her husband and stabbed him repeatedly ; then at her sons, 
two of whom fell while the other th-ce ficd to the woods and 
became more savage than ever. In a few months there were 
none left living but the mother, who has become a convert to 
Mormonism, and. as you see is predestined to sanctity." 

All those inexplorcd forests, and those wild rocks have 
witnessed analogous scenes — and so the progress goes on, 
mingled with crimes stained with human blood. 

AVashington Irving has disguised with idyllic colors, the 
terrible and devouring march of colonization in those savage 
spots where the civilizing bee is not yet known. 13 ut to know 
well the unequal combat of man with these vast forests, these 
mighty waters and with primitive human ferocity, the work of 



298 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA. 

M. Alexander Ross should be read, " Adventures of the first 
settlers on the shores of the Columbia river." 

Thirty years ago a German, named Astor, gave part of his 
vast fortune to the foundation of a colony, w.hose history has 
been vrritten by Irving. Though then the effort was unsuc- 
cessful, nature now begins to yield to the force of mutual 
labor. 

The Astorian expedition sailed in a vessel called the 
Tonkin, commanded by a person of extreme violence, severity, 
and cruelty — on board were European sailors, some Indians, 
some German shopkeepers and some New York tradesmen. 
Among them was Mr. Ross. The captain's cruelty revolted 
every body. He threw one sailor overboard in a passion, and 
putting eight others into a small boat, compelled them to 
cross the bar of the river, where all perished ; finally some 
of his partners and some passengers having displeased- him, 
he set them ashore on a desert island and sailed on. Then 
he put the rest of his passengers upon the Oregon shore 
and coasted along to the northward, there to meet an horrible 
death. They bought furs from the Indians, paying them 
with cutlery and glass beads. One of the savages having 
slighty injured a grating with his knife and fled, the captain 
ordered his chiefs to give him up, but they only smiled 
Hiey were then imprisoned and refused eith.er to eat or drink. 
In tlic morning the culprit was caught, the chiefs set free 
and presents offered to them but disdainfully refused. The 
next day not an Indian appeared, but the day afterwards 
came an invitation to IMcssrs. Ross and Mackay to visit them. 
These persons consented, and were asked if the captain were 
still angry. They were told " no," and that they could come 
on board freely. Accordingly tbcy came the next day in 
considerable numbers. 

The captain rceeivi d them kindly, but was told by Mr, 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 209 

Maekay that he ought to take some precautions. He how- 
ever said, " I have given them one lesson, and they dare not 
move." Meantime the trading went on, the Indians throw- 
ing their purchases into their canoes. By and bye the 
women went over the side, and pushed off their canoes, as 
the men raised the long war-whoop and attacked the defence- 
less crew. Mr. Mackay had armed himself with pistols and 
now shot two of the savages, but was soon dispatched and 
thrown overboard. Mr. Ross leaped into the sea and was 
picked up by the women. In five minutes all was finished : 
not a single white remained on board but the armorer Stephen 
Weeks, who had defended himself with an axe and then taken 
refuge in the magazine, where he set fire to the powder, and 
blow himself, the ship, and 175 savages into eternity. Mr. 
Ross was set on shore and made his way through the woods 
to the mouth of the Columbia river. 

Here new disasters met him ; the x'lstorian expedition had 
not measured its strength. Everything in this world is an 
art. To plant, or to cut down a tree, to build a house, or a 
hut, to sow, to reap, each of these have cosu mankind centu^. 
rics of education, for humanity becomes great only by pro- 
gress, accumulation and skilful employment of knowledge. 
The axe knew not where to smite in these tangled wilder- 
nesses, and there was not one woodman among them, so that 
their apprenticeship was a hard one. It cost them a month 
to clear an acre, and " in that time," says Mr. l^oss, " my 
black hair had become grey, I had grown old in the strife." 
These hardy and imprudent pioneers disappeared in a few 
months ; all were dead except Ross who lived to recount 
tlieir sufferings and to destroy Mr. Irving's charming 
eclogue. 

It is only after such disasters that the lee is forme,^, the 
'::,-i- nd venturers being sacrificed to prepare the way for it. 



300 THE FUTURE OF KORTPI AMERICA 

Burning forests, massacres, bear and wolf-figlits, quarrels with 
other adventurers fill the volumes of Lanman and E,eve, aa 
well as the curious work entitled " Jonathan Sharp, or the 
adventures of a Kentuckian." If we are to believe him, the 
Texan bandits have no equals in the world. The northern 
Yankee, complete type of the ancient colonist, speculative, 
quiet, cautiously curious, full of cold bravery and great 
sagacity, is of higher grade, yet is far from the refinements 
of civilization. It is easy to understand that the propriety 
and politeness of advanced society find little favor with su-ch 
people. Pretension nuist meet pretension, blow be rendered 
for blow, invasion for invasion, impertinence for impertinence. 
This greatly annoys the English, who cannot be made to 
understand the ditference between G-rosvenar Place and the 
Alleganies. The Americans understand it. They do not 
expect a trapper to resemble a Cardinal at the Vatican, nor 
the speculator, dining in the three or four hundred taverns 
between Texas and Toronto, to resemble the gentleman ar the 
dandy. It is among the politicians, the diplomatists, the men 
of letters, at Boston or Philadelphia, that you are to seek the 
gentler and polished forms of North-xVmerican civilization. 
In the Southern States you find the opulent and animated life 
of the English country gentleman : Gothic towers, ornaments 
of the renahsaiice^ green lawn and feudal terrace greet the 
traveller, who admires in these republican families the varied 
knowledge, the literary taste and the refined elegance of 
Europe. 



AND OE' THE UNITED STATES. 301 



SECTION X. 

THE QUESTIONER SCENE IN A STAGE-COACH THE ENGLISH- 
MAN. 

In taverns and hotels, in the midst of the active movement 
of industry, on the high ways and raih'oads you find symptoms 
of an infant civilization, which, however, are neither rude nor 
coarse. The working and trading classes often exhibit an 
ingeniously impertinent inquisitiveness, and travellers often 
complain of it. " Sir," said a Vermonter to his neighbor in 
a stage coach, "are you a bachelor?" "No." "Are you 
married.?" "No." Then you are a widower .?" "No." — 
Here ensued a pause broken angrily by the questioner. " If 
you are neither bachelor, married, nor widower, what the 
devil are you .'" " Divorced ; and nov/ let me alone !" The 
questioner then turned to a person with a wooden leg and said, 
" I would like very much to know how you lost that leg .?" 
"Well, I will tell you if you will promise to ask no more 
questions."' "Well, I promise." "['11 tell youthen; it 
was bitten off." — "Oh," muttered the Vermonter, "how I 
would like to know what bit it off." . 

Travellers' books are full of such scenes. The Scotch Dr. 
Mackay, getting into a coach, was followed by a little man in 
brass-buttoned blue coat, bristly grey hair, and most inquisitive 
little eyes. He chewed tobacco and spat much, to the great 
disgust of the Doctor — and at last — " Grood morning, stran- 
ger," said he — " Good morning !" replied the doctor, glancing 
at him and astonished to see him looking intently out of the 
opposite window. " How are you.?" said the American, with 
a furtive glance immediately withdrawn. " iVs well as one 



302 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 

can be in such warm weather." "Do you chew ?" ^'No." 
" Snuff?" " No." " Smoke ?" " Sometimes." " It is a dirty 
habit," said the other, squitting out a jet of tobacco juice, 
some of which fell on his trowsers, and was wiped off with his 
sleeve. " All use of tobacco is uncleanly," said the doctor, 
looking at the sleeve. " You are not a Scotchman are you ?" 
" You might be mistaken .?" " It is because you have a 
plaid." "Yes that looks Scottish." " I was right then .^" 
" 1 did not say you were wrong." " When I make a mistake, 
stranger, I'll give you leave to tell me." 

This polite conversation was interrupted by the Doctor 
making some notes. But the little man slapping him on the 
shoulder said, " I like the Scotch." " Ah !" " I'm Scotch 
myself." " Indeed !" " Yes ; that is, I was born here ; so 
was my father and grandfather, but my great-grandfather 
came from Scotland." " I see that you have ancestors .^" 
" Oh, that don't count here — we go for what's above ground, 
not under it: how long have you been in the country ?" 
"Some months." "How long are you going to stay .^" 
" That depends." " On what does it depend .?" I would 
not have time to tell you." " But we can travel on together," 
"No." "Are you on governmental business.?" "Who 
knows !" " I don't think you are a merchant, and you don't 
seem to be travelling for pleasure ; it is singular." " Yes, 
it is siniTular." " Very singular ; will you leave the country 
soon .?" " When I have seen enough of it." Fortunately 
the city of Augusta came in sight. " Ah," cried the doctor, 
" is that Augusta .?" 

" Well, I guess," replied the other, " that it may be some- 
where near the location which they call Augusta." 

, In the midst of a civilization so active and varied, here so 
moral and simple, there so rude and violent, woman represents 



And of the united states. 303 

elegance and grace ; she represents too the progress of popu- 
lation, element of future force. Travellers are astonished to 
see the people so often accused of rudeness of manners and 
of coarseness, exhibit a chivalric love for their women. In 
the States, the women, though in fact neglected, enjoy as we 
have said a singular consideration ; young girls demand this, 
the women receive it. Where there is no gallantry and the 
manners are in general pure, the domination of the boudoir is 
without danger. 

In 1847, a stout, robust, self-important English traveller, 
secured the first place in a coach, and established himself in 
it to read the paper. 

" Sir," said the proprietor opening the door, " here are 
some ladies, will you be good enough to take the other side." 
The Englishman looked stupified, while the other continued, 
" Very sorry, sir, but the best place is always for the ladies." 
Then spake John Bull. 

" Sir, I took my place at Cumberland and paid for it. It 
is mine, and all America shall not take it from me." Then 
with a volley of d ns, he fell back in his place. 

" As you please, sir," said the proprietor, " you may keep 
it if you like to all eternity," and he closed the door. In 
about ten minutes John Bull opened it and looked out. 
They had quietly harnessed the horses to another coach, and 
it was now quarter of a mile ahead. 



304 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 



SECTION XI. 

WOMEN EDUCATION OF CHILDREN LITERARY PROGRESS. 

A delicate and quickly fading beauty, early marriarre and 
absolute independence, the exaggeration of German and 
English tradition, and the deference always accorded to the 
activity of 3'outh, explains the excessive influence of 5^oung 
girls in American society. Mothers are put upon the shelf. 
Hence comes the frivolity found in society, submitted to by 
the gravest men and complained of by ]\Iiss Martineau and 
Mrs. Trollope. " I have seen old politicians," said a traveller, 
^' talking ribbons and dancing for half an hour, not by gallantry 
but for politics' sake." 

This petticoat government makes very undisciplined chil- 
dren, who will not always obey even the doctor's orders, *' and 
many children," says i^Ir. Lyell, " are lost in consequence." 
The perpetual revolt and tumult of a nursery is abominable. 
Yet this indulgence has a good reason. They beo-in life so 
early, that it is almost only in infancy that the parents can 
show tbem any tenderness. This indulgence to children and 
respect for women, comes from the sentiment of love of raco 
and compensates for the faults we have mentioned. 

Literature, as we have said, is little favored by such a move- 
ment. The only wonder is that it has produced so many 
men illustrious in the various departments of literature, Bry- 
ant, Longfellow, Prescott, Cooper, Ilalleck, and Stevens, a man 
little known in France yet meriting to be so by the brilliancy 
of his coloring and his liveliness. Instead of requiring the 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 305 

man of letters to become a politician ; instead of despising 
Lim for resting in his natural place, the Americans esteem 
those who are writers. Paulding was made a minister, Ban- 
croft, Everett, and Irving, ambassadors, and honored their 
mission precisely because they had not begged for it. Instead 
of cheapening their scientific remunerations, the Americans 
exaggerate them, and their national pride understands that 
intellectual power should be sheltered from dependence upon 
the democracy. An aeed member of the Institute reeeivincr 
1200 fcs. a year; masters in science paid with $1000, as in 
France would seem to them absurd. The celebrities of the 
country are invited to the Lowell Institute to give twenty 
lessons for $2,000, or $100 an hour. Nevertheless popular 
instruction goes on — countless journals cover the country, 
which adopts the discoveries, lights, even the frivolities of tho 
Old World. 

The European literature is curiously treated in the United 
States. " In the scarcely cleared regions of the West, trav- 
ersed by the railroad, children haunt the stations, shriekino* 
out, " ' New Novel by Paul de Kock, Sir V " or some other 
such matter. 



806 THE FUTURE OF NORTH AMERICA 



SECTION XII. 

RESUMPTION ACTUAL TENDENCY OF THE STATES FUTURE 

OF THE ANGLO-AMERICAN REPUBLICS. 

Through the phases of puLlic or private life which we have 
noticed, education, politics, enterprise, position of woman, 
religion, passions, debates, we have always found the three 
elements of the past, — Teutonic, Puritan, Anglo-Saxon, 
Christian — variety, liberty, tradition, labor, energy, charity. 
These virtues, make the force and power of present America, 
which lives and grows by them, not by her political institu- 
tions. The object of these institutions is to protect, but not 
to interfere with the development of these living forces ; if 
there be little government, there are characteristics, and it is 
where characteristics are wanting, that a government is 
needed. 

The Irish with their love of disorder, the French with their 
administrative habits, and the Germans with their antique 
respect for hierarchy, are all being absorbed — the northern 
people more easily than the southern — in the general stream 
of antique Anglo-Saxon liberty. What is called " the 
American Revolution/' " War of American Independence," 
are words, phrases useful to orators. The Anglo-Saxon 
colonies, independent from the beginning, attended a favor- 
able moment to declare themselves free ; grown strong, they 
refused to pay taxes to those who did them no good ; they 
were right. Since 1*715,^ they were more than ready for a 
republic ; the reality existed before the appearance ; the 
name came after the thing. But they did not lay down their 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 307 

arms ; it is now half a century, that, aided by the Germanic 
and Christian sentiments, with English respect for law, they 
produce cotton, tobacco, Indian corn, railroads and dollars. 
Faithful to Teutonism and Christianity, faithful to their 
language, in which the word ^eojple has no such sense as is 
given to it by Roman nations, but means, /(g/Z^(V„,^cyJ/'j, tJolk^ 
a term which embraces rich and poor alike, the most 
powerful and the feeblest member of the community ; a 
race of brothers, knowing that there is no real association 
without sympathy, they, like their fathers, practise those 
words of A. Kempis, *' You must suffer much annoyance and 
trouble, to live peacefully together." 

In Switzerland, Norway, Denmark and Iceland, as in 
America, the Christian German idea has produced association. 
Herds and flocks are in common, the gain of cheese and 
milk is shared ; and this community comes not from law, but 
from custom. The Americans think, like their Calvinist 
forefathers, that man is feeble, has need of help and charity, 
and should assist and labor with his fellow. With such dis- 
positions, the form of government is unimportant ; they 
possess already what is indispensable — religious love for 
humanity, unconquerable antiquity and respect for law. 
Without these moral elements of a social organic body, the 
Mexican and Peruvian Spaniards, who tread on gold and 
silver, more tolerant, civilized, sociable and amiable than the 
Mathers and Smiths, have fallen into degradation and decay. 
The present political mechanism of the States of the South, 
to speak properly, does not exist ; that of the Anglo-French 
possessions is languishing, contradictory and incomplete ; 
that of the United States vigorous, complex and effective. 

I have shown in all the chapters of this book what America 
will become ; a mightier Europe ! 

The space between the Alleghanies and the Rocky Moun- 



808 THE FUTURE OF KORTH AMERICA 

tains is six-fold greater than all France. Add to this the 
three hundred and ninety leagues of the old States, and the 
new Western territories recently acquired, and even the 
imagination is surprised. It is the tenth part of the globe. 
Thus no American sees his country in his village church, 
but in the race and society to which he belongs. The New 
Yorker goes to New Orleans, the Louisianian to Kentucky 
Leave him only the laws and customs which allow a free 
development of the American form, and he is at home. 
Laws, soil, land, customs, memories, desires, institutions, 
pride, passions, qualities, all .agree. The partial democracies 
which compose the union are as solid and stable as the best 
organized States : their roots are in the soul, their sap in the 
customs. Yesterday obscure, walking with bold step in the 
unknown, America cares little for the Present ; the Future is 
hers. A fact governs her life ; it is Expansion, activity, 
energy, tendency to variety, go aheadism. Her moral vigor, 
identical in its causes and essence with Rome's inner force 
under the Scipios, or that of France under Louis XIV. ^ 
or of Spain under Isabella, or of England under the Georges, 
moves in a vaster sphere. The American soul, profoundly 
identified with the institutions of the country, desires only 
what can result from them and from national customs. 
Everywhere one works, lives at the hotel, marries young, 
loves adventure, fears bankruptcy but little, but fears less 
danger or death ; and land is never wanting to the courageous 
American. 

To this vast social experiment now being made in the 
States, you must add the eternal physical effort of Nature. 
Rivers change their beds, Niagara rolls back, the forests fall, 
the prairies burn, the temperature becomes milder and more 
temperate, the miasma loses its fatal force, the means of 
subsistence increase, the population doubles in twenty years, 



AND OF THE UNITED STATES. 309 

and yet all tins is but a preparatory work. The heroic age, 
the war age is at hand ; this mighty race has yet much to do. 

The tendencies of North America, are, on one hand 
towards conquest, on the other, towards the expansion of the 
federative groups, and by no means towards the formation of 
monarchies. 

The States may break up into two or three different fede- 
rations, when the individual States become too numerous. 

Already the inhabitants of the valley of the Mississippi 
have a desire to separate. Texas, California, and Oregon, 
now wild and unpeopled, wiU one day form another sphere. 

It is possible that Cuba, Florida, and all the Slave States 
will form one group ; Canada and the old Northern States 
another, and the third will be in the far West. 

Before 1845, the advance of civilization had not passed a 
line which, drawn from the head of the Gulf of Mexico to 
Lake Superior, angled off to the mouth of the St. Lawrence 
and comprised a third of North America. Now the posses- 
sion of California is one of the most important facts of our 
day, not only because of the precious metals, so abundant 
there, but because of the solidarity which it confers upon the 
various portions of the New World. 

While America thus goes on, what of our Europe ? What 
future is reserved for that old country which Franklin called 
the " good Grandmama" ? 

Are the decrepit children of our worn-out world wise in 
attempting, despite their Past, to imitate the American self- 
government } Will they succeed ? 

We doubt it. 

Already the south of Europe has recognized its incapacity 
to receive the burden of half-democratic, half-oligarchic 
institutions, which have raised Great Britain so high. 



310 THE FUTUKE OF NORTH AMERICA. 

As for the Anglo-American institation, a bold develop- 
ment of the same kind, it demands more moral vigor and 
energetic action. Do we possess these indispensable elements 
in France .'' 

The Future will tell. 



FINIS. 



INDEX. 



PAGE 

Addison, Joseph, . . . 8T 

Addison, Leonard, the Tenant of 

Creation, Ill 

Amjiirica, North, 

Ini\incy and Future of, . . 249 

Future Supremacy, . . 96 

Tendency to Annexation, . 93 

Cause of Superiority, . . 250 

Astoria, first Colonists, . . ,298 

Audubon, 57 

Antobingraphies, Popular, . . 113 
Bee, an American, . . , . 250 

Bayle, 2 

Beck, Aunt, and her Sons, . . . 296 
Bryant, William Cullen, . . .186 
Brown, Brockdcn, . . , . SS 

Blue Laws, 159 

Burns, Eobert, 110 

Canada, 94-98 

Carlylc, Thomas, . . . .110 
Catholics of the Mississippi, . . 272 
Channing, Doctor, . . . .54 
Civilization, American, . . 263-269 
Communication, rapidity of, . . 293 
Cooper, Fennimore, . . . .42 

Crabbe, . , 119 

Crevecoeur, Sir John, ... 8 
Children, Education of, . . . 304 

Defoe, Daniel, 3 

Device of the United States, . . 259 
Emerson, Ealph Waldo, . . 193 



Eagle and Swan, 

Ebenezer, Elliott, 

Education of the Masses, 

Edwards, Jonathan, . 

Emigration, 

Europe, its Popular Movement, 

Evangeline, 

Englishman in Stage-Coacl 

France, her Obstacles, 

Franklin, Benjamin, . 

Gonvorneiir Morris, . 

Hall, Basil,. 

Helps, 

Haliburton, Judge, . 

Hoffman, Charles Fen no. 

Hurricane, a. 

Imagination — what is it? 

Irving, Washington, . 

Jefferson, Thomas, . 

Journals, American, . 

Laftij^ette, . 

Language, the American, 

J^aurence, Governor, etc , 

Literature, Anglo-Americ 

Longfellow, 

Lowell, 

Mormon, Confessions of a 

Mayflower, the, . 

Morris, Gouvcrneur, . 

Mardi, 

Melville, Herman, . 



PAOE 

87 
110 
1(U 
10 
93 
101 
204 



11 

154 

177 

222 

182 

73 

4 

37 

22 

214 

23-31 

171 

201 

195-20.8 
216 
114 
1 
11 
127 
118-123 



312 



INDEX. 





PAGE 




PAGE 




Mcldruin, Ahab, 


. 236 


Purgatory of Suicides, 


■ -1" 11 


Moreau, General, 


. 85 


Eevolution, the French, . 


. 13-29 


! 


Moore, Mr., 


. 210 


Eomanccrs, American, 


. 210 


! 
i 


Matthews, Cornelius, 


. 210 


Sam Slick, .... 


. . 2-1-2 


i 


Millerites, .... 


. 2T0 


Smith, Adam, ' . 


. 101 


1 


Keeker, .... 


. 24 


Society, French, in the Ei 


jhteenth 


1 


Norman Colonists, . 


197-201 


Century, . 


. 20 




Parties in the States, . 


. . 2S2 


Stapleton, Tom, 


. 210 




Payne, the Poet, 


. 1S3 


System, Political, of the 


United 




Paulding, Mr., . 


. 153 


States, . . . . 


. 274 




Poetry of Vengeance, 


. 109 


Tillage, an American, 


. 251 




Press, the American, 


. 17(5 


Voyages, American, . 


. 215 j 


Puifer, Hopkins, 


. 210 


"Whigs and Democrats, 


. 279 





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